


The Wrong Kind of Almost

by yotoob



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-08-11 16:26:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 47,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16478969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yotoob/pseuds/yotoob
Summary: And probably the best explanation, the only explanation, is that Eve has gone mad.





	1. Conspicuously Absent

**Author's Note:**

> This particular idea won't let me go.

It was a month before Eve stopped expecting to find Villanelle in every new room she entered.

It was another two months before Eve stopped checking every news outlet obsessively, morning to night, looking for signs of a body of a young woman found in Paris….

It was four months and six days when Eve became convinced that she saw Villanelle get on the next tube carriage, just as Eve was getting off. She had a hat on, and sunglasses, but the way she walked… and the flick of her hair…. 

Eve had called the office, and kept Carolyn on the phone, and followed Villanelle across London for nearly an hour. She keeps as professional a distance as possible, trying to remember that it was not worth getting killed just to lock eyes with her again.

But then Villanelle had taken off her sunglasses, and hugged someone with a laugh of recognition, and… it wasn’t Villanelle at all.

Eve had needed to sit down for some time after that. Sit down and experience the crushing disappointment alone, whilst Carolyn had cooly explained that she would need Eve to have a meeting with Human Resources _and_ start actually using all those counselling sessions that had been offered.

…..

It was six months when Carolyn officially pulled the focus away from Villanelle, who’s light hearted touch had been conspicuously absent from all recent high profile murders.

“But she’s still out there. I can feel it.”

But gut feelings aren’t enough to base an investigation on, and Carolyn ignores her plea.

“We need more than a feeling, Eve. Also, maybe we should re-examine the notion that you might have actually killed her?” 

And so Eve has to spend another horrifying hour with an anatomy expert and a model of a human torso, reliving her mistakes.

And what kind of knife was it?

Did it have a serrated edge? 

How long was it? 

Whereabouts on this model would you say you stabbed her? 

Did you thrust it fully into her? 

Did you pull it out on the same angle or did you twist it? 

How much blood was there - approximately?

Too much, Eve thinks. And it was all over her hands.

But Villanelle can’t be dead. It’s just not the sort of thing that she would do. But she doesn’t know how to explain this without sounding unhinged, deeply paranoid, or desperate.

…..

After eight months, Carolyn redirects MI5’s resources away from Villanelle to more active agents.

“We can’t keep hunting a ghost Eve, it isn’t practical.”

Eve sobs that night, because what if she is dead? And Eve never got to find out…

After nine months she files for a divorce. Because she cannot continue to pretend to Niko that everything is okay.

….

She gets to work early. She stays late.

And she is doing her job, and meeting her deadlines by the skin of her teeth. 

But all the extra hours are because she is also trying to find some sign, some hint, some flicker of recognition…

Kenny is worried about her. So is Elena.

“I’m fine guys-”

Except when the anniversary of Bill’s death rolls around, and then she really isn’t fine, and she weeps by the microwave in the office kitchen. She doesn’t know who the tears are for, the murdered or the murderer, and that isn’t okay, not by a long shot.

Eve digs up the old files, rereads Villanelle’s past work with a soft smile and an admiration that feels almost dirty.

And there were never any photos of her. There’s the grainy cctv footage from the prison, but that’s not on the official case notes, that’s on Kenny’s hard drive somewhere. And Eve cannot quite lower herself to ask him.

And there’s the prison mug shot, of Villanelle looking battered, bruised, hooded eyes and older, despite being at least five years younger. When she had first seen this picture, Eve remembers thinking that this girl barely looked like Villanelle at all. And besides, a picture cannot capture how Villanelle moved, how she walked, how she pointed a gun as though it was an invitation.

But now that mug shot is all Eve’s got.

It’s a desperate sorrow, that catches up to her, when Eve realises that this picture will be her abiding memory of Villanelle. And she knows that it doesn’t cover ten percent of what Villanelle was.

 

…..

“I think about you all the time”

God, maybe she managed to curse herself. Because there isn’t a minute, there isn’t a waking second that doesn’t contain a thought about Villanelle, even though it’s been over a year.

She can’t remember the details any more. Eve feels like she would give anything just to see her face again, because Eve cannot remember the exact positioning of the moles on her cheek, and the uncertainty is going to haunt her to the grave.

….

Eve isn’t doing her job very well.

She knows that Carolyn is watching her. Eve, Kenny and Elena were all repositioned into Carolyn’s direct over view, in a tactic acknowledgement that things hadn’t exactly gone to plan, ever since Carolyn had brought them together to work on tracking down Villanelle.

Carolyn owes them, and that is probably why Eve is allowed to continue being not very good at her job.

…..

Until, one morning, Carolyn calls Eve into her office.

Eve is convinced that this is the moment when Carolyn says “I’ve given you as much time as I can, but now I need you to refocus.” Eve has all of her preplanned lies ready in rejoinder.

But instead Carolyn says “There’s a new member of the team joining tomorrow. Someone from GCHQ. Hargreaves in the Home Office is very keen for there to be more inter-agency link up, and this is my nod towards his targets. She won’t be up to speed for a while, but I suppose GCHQ don’t hire incompetents, so we’ll have to trust in their hiring process to have filtered out the dross. I’ve met her briefly, she seems able enough.”

Carolyn says this all extremely matter of factly, and Eve closes her eyes for a second, breathing out in relief. Carolyn glances from her monitor to Eve, and clears her throat awkwardly.

“Fiona. She’ll be working on Dawlish’s team, you’ll barely have any interaction.”

Eve nods, and then doesn’t know why Carolyn has summoned her for a private meeting just because a new member of staff is joining. This isn’t usual practice.

“Is there something else?”

Carolyn types up a brief note, and then flexes her fingers briefly.

“It occurred to me… when I met Fiona, that she does… have a more than passing resemblance to Oksana Astankova. I wanted to just flag that with you before I introduce her at the team briefing tomorrow, in case-”

Eve laughs abruptly, and looks up at the ceiling, shoulders slumping.

“Oh _god_ , you wanted to make sure I didn’t have a panic attack, jesus you think I’ve gone mad-”

“No” says Carolyn carefully, “I’m merely recognising that this agency put you in a very difficult situation, one which you were not trained for, and the events of last year would have a lasting effect on anyone.”

Eve sighs, looking away from Carolyn out of her office window. 

“Okay. I’ll be sure not to scream. Thank you. Was there anything else?”

…..

There was not.

Eve almost skips the team meeting. In fact she spends most of the night before lying awake, panicking that Kenny and Elena will recognise the likeness this Fiona shares with Villanelle, and flick quick little side glances at her to gauge her reaction.

Or, worse, Carolyn would reference the similarity somehow, to the wider team. And then everyone would turn to look at her.

It can’t be that obvious, Eve tells herself. Besides, the wider team have only ever seen the prison headshot of Villanelle. The rest of the images are taken from grainy CCTV footage of Villanelle.

Only Eve has stared into Villanelle’s eyes from a foot away. Eve, and Carolyn. So they are the only ones who would notice the similarity that this Fiona holds.

In fact, the more Eve thinks about it, the more she thinks she would be struck by the differences, rather than the similarities. And it’ll jar with her, because Fiona will obviously _not_ be Villanelle, not in the way that Eve wants her to be.

She’ll end up hating her. Because she will represent the wrong kind of almost. The kind of almost that made Eve reach for Villanelle with a knife instead of with her mouth.

She almost skips the team meeting.

…..

But she doesn’t, because she is a professional.

She does take some work to sift through, and keeps her head down and her eyes focused, as the wider team shuffle in.

Carolyn oversees about fifty people. They are split into smaller teams, and each oversee one small part of a wider project. Only Carolyn knows exactly what all the teams are up to, how each objective feeds into an overarching project.

And frankly, it’s above Eve’s pay grade to know. Eve knows that she’ll never work her way up through the organisation now. There’ll be an unspoken black mark against her name forever; a note on a file that she’ll never be allowed to see.

_Eve Polastri: Went Awol. Stabbed target._

Eve hopes that the note doesn’t also say _Became Obsessed_ , but she has no way of knowing, and definitely no way of asking.

So she keeps her head down, and turns page after idle page, all the while listening, and wondering exactly how much this Fiona looks like Villanelle.

Nothing like her, she decides.

“And, finally, I just wanted to quickly introduce Fiona Lewis, who’s going to be joining Martin’s team; Fiona is joining us from GCHQ.”

Eve does look up at this point, because it would be bordering on churlish not to.

And standing there, next to Carolyn, smiling politely at everyone with a raised hand, is Villanelle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading
> 
> yotoob.tumblr.com, or @yotoob on twitter
> 
> This one will not have daily updates. I just wanted to get the ball rolling. 
> 
> SPONSORED BY PATIO TOWN (don't ask guys, we've been on a journey, BT are the nemesis now, update your filofax)
> 
> (hi everyone)


	2. Unremarkable

“Eve, you have to calm down.”

Eve gapes at Carolyn, and then brandishes her phone towards her.

“I’m calling the police.”

“For goodness sake…. you can’t call the police. Anyway, I’m not entirely sure whether the internal procedures of this building allow for that-”

Eve cuts across her again.

“I’m calling the police.”

“Eve, you must not call the police. Whilst I will concede that Fiona’s likeness is uncanny, she very much is _not_ Villanelle. I had pre-warned you in order to avoid a scene like this-”

“A scene?” Eve questions, frustrated beyond all possible- “Why do you keep talking about a likeness, for fuck’s sake, Fiona _is_ Villanelle, you must be able to- You’ve met her, face to face Carolyn. And now she is here, and you’ve _hired her_ , and are just expecting me to be able to ignore that Villanelle is in the offices of MI5, currently receiving tutorial on how to use the fucking photocopier!”

Carolyn places her hands firmly on her desk, palms down.

“Eve, you must lower your voice. Speak in a more considered tone. My office does not have the sound proofing to be able to deal with this volume.”

Eve stares at Carolyn for a long moment.

“Villanelle is in the building, but you would like me to consider my tone?”

Carolyn sighs.

“Fiona is in the building. Fiona Lewis, who grew up in Liverpool, and went to Bath University where she received a first in International Relations. Fiona Lewis, who has spent three years impressing people at GCHQ. Fiona Lewis, who despite having listed a keen interest in international travel in her CV, has very much not spent two years stabbing her way across Europe. Please listen to me Eve. She is not Villanelle. I know she does look like her. I myself have regularly been told I look like Mrs Dursley, whom I believe is frequently used as an example of how not to raise fostered children. However, despite my similarities, I am not keeping a small boy wizard in a cupboard at home, and Fiona Lewis _is not Villanelle._ ”

Eve struggles with this. She puts her hands on her hips, and then rubs her hand over her eyes.

“You’re sure?”

Carolyn shrugs.

“Yes. I have met Villanelle. I have met Fiona. They are not the same person. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

Eve sighs, and then sits down on the chair opposite Carolyn’s desk.

“I was a fair distance away from her. On the other side of the room. That probably didn’t help.”

“Probably not” says Carolyn, and then continues smoothly “and may I just say that, in the circumstances, your reaction was bordering on restrained…”

…..

Elena slides a coffee across the table towards her.

“Okay, so I honestly thought you were having a heart attack. And Kenny thought you were choking on something.”

“Yeah” Kenny says casually from over the top of his monitor. “I nearly did the Heimlich manoeuvre on you, I’ve been watching Youtube videos on it.”

“Jesus” Eve mutters, sliding down in her chair and glancing around the office to see if anyone is looking over towards them. 

“But then, when you ran out of the room swearing I thought you were about to be sick, so I figured maybe you wanted a bit of space…”

“I was hiding because I thought I was about to be stabbed!”

Elena looks at her as though she’s crazy, and who knows, maybe?

“Why would Fiona stab you?”

“Because I thought she was Villanelle, and the last time I saw Villanelle I stabbed her!”

Elena snorts, as though remembering a funny anecdote.

“Oh yeah, god I always forget about that, you just don’t seem the stabby type I guess-”

Eve takes a sip of her coffee, wincing as the liquid near scalds her mouth.

“I’m not, usually, she just seemed to inspire it in me, I’m still not sure why… anyway. Carolyn had said that Fiona looked like Villanelle, she thought that I needed a warning, and that had been freaking me out all day, and then… oh I don’t know, it must have been the lighting, and I was on the other side of the room, but she just… she looks exactly like her.”

Kenny shrugs, chewing on his pen lid.

“Yeah, she does. But probably only from a distance, you know? Maybe you should go and introduce yourself, and then you’ll see differences, and then you can stop looking so…” Kenny trails off, and glances to Elena for help.

Elena looks hesitant, and then says “so haunted. Eve, seriously, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Eve nearly agrees, except agreeing to that sounds like she is agreeing that Villanelle is dead, and Eve isn’t willing to do that at all.

…..

Eve doesn’t leave her desk all day. In fact, it’s probably the most focused she’s been at work since…. well.

The Villanelle file stays closed all day. Eve follows up on old case work, trying to pin together leads on a series of disappearances from a couple of years ago.

Towards the end of the day, Elena wheels her office chair over to Eve.

“You want to go for a drink?”

Eve shakes her head. Elena sighs, and then motions towards Eve’s computer screen with her hand.

“I just saw Fiona. Let me have a look at that prison photo of Villanelle.”

Eve bites her lip, and then dumbly pulls up the appropriate file.

There’s a tightness in her chest as she looks at Villanelle’s face, an ache that hollows her out completely. She doesn’t know how to explain to Elena that this picture doesn’t even look like Villanelle, there’s no way this picture captures the brightness of her eyes, the self assured smirk, the startling honestly, the swagger, the way she comes too close, stares for too long, the bite of her teeth and the roll of her accent, the way she dares Eve to surprise her and then grins when Eve manages it, the way-

Elena leans forward in her chair, gazing at the pixelated image.

“She does look like her.”

“This picture doesn’t look much like Villanelle though.”

“Okay, whatever” Elena says with a slight grin. “Well, in that case, you can relax, because Fiona looks a _lot_ like this photo, so clearly she looks nothing like Villanelle.”

Eve taps on her lips, mindful of not sounding too…

“You saw her, right? You saw her, that time when we were rescuing Frank?”

Elena shrugs. 

“I mean, sure, but like, I was mainly hiding from bullets and screaming. And she was a hundred metres away. And, because I am sane, I didn’t leap out the car and approach her for a chat.”

Eve groans, and closes down the image, suddenly exhausted of chasing normality.

“I’m going home. I’m going to watch Bake Off and worry about pastry instead.”

…..

Eve swipes her card to exit the building, and then immediately turns left, heading to the nearest off licence. 

She needs a bottle of wine and a ready meal.

Maybe she doesn’t remember what Villanelle looks like at all. Eve’s overriding memory of Villanelle is that she always felt like she was on the verge of death, every time they locked eyes.

Jesus, she misses her? Is that even… is it possible to miss your nemesis?

Eve opts for a curry for two, and a bottle of wine that has no views on how many people should share it.

And maybe she should just accept that Villanelle is gone. Maybe Eve killed her. But what feels more likely is that Villanelle spotted that the absolute worst outcome for Eve would be this slow torture of not knowing.

 _I want to know everything_ she’d said, in the Paris apartment, staring into Villanelle’s eyes. And Villanelle had listened, and heard her, and made sure that Eve had been given the exact opposite.

She’d been so…

Eve pays, exchanges the usual inane small talk with the store owner, and exits. 

And then, it’s the usual five minute walk to the tube station, and then the unpleasant rush hour commute. Eve is already despairing of her odds of getting a seat when-

_What the fuck?_

It is- her brain tries to provide her with the name Fiona, but it isn’t, that isn’t Fiona, she isn’t Fiona, Eve knows that she isn’t Fiona. 

Villanelle. Walking towards her, wearing an unremarkable raincoat, looking at her phone, taking quick glances up to avoid colliding with anyone. 

Eve backs away, almost backs into a streetlight. Terror clutches at her. Terror, but also…

“Hey” she says without thinking.

Villanelle glances at her once, smiles with a slight, confused recognition, and then just keeps on walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading
> 
> yotoob.tumblr.com, or @yotoob on twitter
> 
> SPONSORED BY REALLY NOT GOING TO BE DAILY UPDATES PLEASE DO NOT GET USED TO IT


	3. Short Hand Abbreviations

Eve spends some time that night researching amnesia.

In fact, she spends all night, looking through case after case.

It does happen. People forget who they are. After some kind of traumatic event, people just…. forget everything. And, if they don’t have a normal social network, a family to re-tie them to the truth, people might never remember again, and adopt a new identity just from the need to exist.

So… maybe, when Eve stabbed Villanelle… maybe Villanelle was so upset that she…? Lost her memory?

It isn’t a very satisfactory explanation at all. In fact, it sounds so unlike anything that Villanelle would do Eve cannot even summon the energy to believe it for a second. Were it not for the way Villanelle’s eyes just slid over her as though Eve was no one, as though she were of no consequence at all…

Eve cannot understand how Villanelle could glance at her and then look away. 

Eve cannot imagine being able to look away from Villanelle.

…..

She goes to see Carolyn the next morning.

“Eve… please tell me we are not having the same conversation.”

“Oh, we are, because I do not understand how you are just sitting there and telling me that Fiona isn’t Villanelle? I’ve seen her up close now, I nearly bumped her outside work.”

“Please tell me you didn’t stab her.”

“No I did not, but I almost dropped my bottle of wine.”

Carolyn’s eyebrows raise, and then she murmurs “How alarming…”

“Jesus, I am not…. this isn’t just me having a moment Carolyn; I have met her more times than _anyone_ in this agency, and I am telling you that Villanelle is in this building, and has access to our data, and you aren’t doing anything about it!”

Carolyn pinches the bridge of her nose briefly.

“Eve. She has been cleared by HR. All of her documents line up, and I have _personally_ checked all of them. Fiona will have also gone through a rigorous background check before joining GCHQ. We don’t just let people wander into this building just because they declare themselves proficient at Excel, although goodness knows we do seem to let them stay even if they do lie about their Excel competence. But what I am saying is that there are procedures in place, and Fiona has passed them all. Are you standing there suggesting that the entire security team, myself included, have suddenly forgotten how to do our jobs?”

Eve doesn’t know what to say. She pulls her hair out of its pony tail and reties it, just in order to buy some thinking time.

“No. But… she is identical to her. Every detail of her build, her face, her facial expressions, are _the same_ , and so-”

“Well” Carolyn says with a shrug, “we certainly will be keeping an eye on her. And I’m sure I can rely on you to do that, even if the rest of us collectively drop the ball. But, please refrain from screaming every time you bump into her-”

“I did not _scream-_ ”

“Of course” Carolyn says soothingly.

Eve isn’t soothed at all. She stands up.

“Okay, so I’m just supposed to go and work at my desk now, am I?”

“Yes Eve. That is why we all come to work.”

Eve hesitates by the door, and looks back at Carolyn.

“And you are _sure?_ ”

Carolyn sighs.

“Yes. I am. Also, whilst I acknowledge that you did meet Villanelle more times than I did, and shared more, uh, face to face time… please consider the circumstances of your meetings. From how you describe them, they were quite stressful encounters. I think we should consider the possibility that the heightened emotions mean that your memories of Villanelle are some what limited in their accuracy.”

…..

Eve would be lying, if she said that she struggled to remember.

Hospital bathroom. Car chase. Dinner. Shooting Konstantin. Stabbing.

Eve has reduced all of their meetings down to short hand abbreviations. 

But how reliable are her memories?

There was only one encounter in which Eve felt anywhere close to calm, and that was in the bathroom at the hospital.

But jesus, that was so long ago… Eve feels as though she has lived several lives since then.

And that version of Villanelle- Eve had realised, long ago, that the reason that the hospital version of Villanelle had felt different was because Villanelle had been playing a character. She had spoken with an English accent. She had been quiet. Unthreatening. Disconcerting, maybe, but not threatening.

So that memory of Villanelle is the least reliable.

However… if Fiona _is_ Villanelle, then Villanelle is obviously playing a character now. So maybe the hospital memory is the _most_ reliable.

And all her other memories… in each encounter Eve had been at least fifty percent convinced that she was about to die. Surely that just heightens her recall?

Eve keeps circling back to the same, undeniable thought.

 _She looks exactly like her_.

…..

Eve does lower herself to this level, and asks Kenny to bring up the cctv footage from the Russian prison.

He mutely complies, and they both stare at the screen.

Villanelle walks down the corridor, flanked by two guards. Eve had recognised her from her walk, the first time.

Okay, so maybe-

Kenny speaks abruptly.

“My old philosophy professor used to say to be ‘balance the probabilities’. Over and over again, we made a t-shirt for him when we graduated. But it’s a good piece of advice.”

Eve frowns, staring at Villanelle on the screen.

“What do you mean?”

Kenny minimises the video footage.

“Balance the probabilities. Which one is more likely… that Villanelle has somehow tricked every security system we have, that GCHQ has, that the Home Office has, and gotten past my mother, and is working here, just to fuck with your head? _Or_ that Villanelle has a doppelgänger called Fiona who just happens to work in our offices now?”

Eve grunts, and then says “Both of those options seem pretty improbable.”

“But which is the _most_ improbable?” Kenny insists. “Because whichever is the most improbable, the other option is generally true.”

Eve sighs, and then mumbles “I can’t believe that you have found a practical application for philosophy in this day and age-”

And then she stands bolt upright, because Villanelle is standing in the doorway to their office.

“Uh. Hiya.” Villanelle says. 

Eve can’t move. After a moment, Kenny raises a mute hand in greeting.

Villanelle looks down at her shoes, and seems awkward for a moment. She laughs slightly, and then runs a hand through her hair.

“Um, oh god, look, I was just in with Carolyn, and she said that… she explained that I look… look quite a lot like a girl who was trying to kill you, a while back?”

Eve takes a second, in fact she can’t fully… jesus, is this what a Liverpudlian accent sounds like? Eve struggles to understand. 

Thankfully, Kenny is more on the ball.

“Yeah, you do.”

Villanelle grins awkwardly, and then says “Well. Carolyn was suggesting that I give you guys a wide berth for a bit, but I thought it might be a bit more… you know. If I just came over and introduced myself and was kind of… not a psychopath, at you. I thought that might help?”

Villanelle sticks her hands in her pockets, and then immediately pulls one out again, and waves.

“So, hi? I’m Fiona. I’m sorry I’ve been freaking you out a bit, it wasn’t my intention.”

Eve blinks several times, and although she looks like Villanelle, she isn’t moving like Villanelle, and she certainly doesn’t _sound_ like Villanelle…

“Uh” Eve manages to say. Fiona bites her lip. 

“Sorry, I’m probably breaking all sorts of protocol right now, aren’t I?”

Eve swallows. “I don’t know if there is protocol for this sort of situation.”

Fiona flashes a nervous smile at her, and then says “No, probably not. But I thought I should. You know. Apologise. For-” and here Fiona flicks a quick circle around her face with a finger, and then rolls her eyes. “For my face.”

Eve doesn’t say anything, just stares at her. Kenny coughs after a second, and then says “Yeah… um. It’s just a coincidence, obviously. It was nice to meet you. I’m Kenny.”

“Hi Kenny” Fiona smiles warmly at him, and her accent does something funny to his name, pulls the kay sound down into the back of her throat. Fiona glances at Eve enquiringly, and Eve, after a second, realising that she is expecting Eve to introduce herself.

“Eve. Eve Polastri.”

Fiona nods, and smiles, exactly as she should do.

“Eve. Cool. Well, it’s nice to meet you both. And sorry again. For the face.”

Neither Kenny nor Eve say anything. After a second Fiona gives them both a quick smile, and turns to go. She almost bumps into Elena who is coming the other way.

“Oh god, I’m sorry, I’m such a klutz…”

“No, you’re alright, don’t worry-”

And then Fiona disappears, and nothing about the way she moves reminds Eve of Villanelle at all.

Elena comes into the office with her eyebrows raised, and dumps her papers on the table. She turns to Kenny and Eve.

“So… anyone in here dead?”

…..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading
> 
> yotoob.tumblr.com, or @yotoob on twitter.
> 
> So have I mentioned that my other Killing Eve fic Professional Boundaries is being given the pod fic treatment? Because it is. So you can LISTEN to it instead of all that tiresome reading. It's being completed by bagofthumbs; you should go and let them know they're great.
> 
> SPONSORED BY GODDAMNIT, IF I WAS GOOD AT USING THIS WEBSITE I'D FIGURE OUT HOW TO INSERT A LINK TO THE POD FIC, WOULDN'T I?


	4. Freak Coincidence

Okay. Okay.

Fiona doesn’t behave at all like Villanelle.

In fact, now that Kenny and Elena have both spoken to Fiona, they are convinced that her similarity to Villanelle is just a freaky coincidence. 

“She’s like… her twin.” Elena says this over and over again, and now that Elena is certain that Fiona isn’t Villanelle, she suddenly has perfect recall of what Villanelle looks like.

“Uncanny” Elena likes to announce, usually after she’s just caught a glimpse of Fiona. “Uncanny.”

Eve catches glimpses of her as well, and each brief encounter just seems to serve to tell Eve that she was wrong all along. Because although Fiona’s face could be a photocopy, there’s no way that Eve can even begin to imagine Villanelle bumbling her way from office to office, on a desperate yet apologetic hunt for a box of staples that will fit into the photocopiers dispenser.

“Sorry, hi, I don’t suppose you have any f12 staples do you? The photocopier is out.”

The mundanity of the question helps Eve to react in a normal way, and she drags open her desk drawer.

“Uh… no, sorry. I have the D3 ones, if that’s any good.”

“No, I tried those, nearly had to call an exorcist to get them out of the ruddy machine… thanks though.”

And then she’s gone. Eve stares after her.

God, she misses Villanelle.

It’s worse than only having the photograph to remember Villanelle by. At least the photograph just jarred with Eve’s memories of Villanelle, helped Eve remember all the things about her that couldn’t be contained in a photograph.

But Fiona… seems to be actively erasing all of Eve’s memories. Eve can still remember the way that Villanelle walks, the swagger, the sheer, improbable nonchalance with which she inserts herself into every terrifying situation. But her laugh….

Did Eve ever hear her laugh? Or did it always sound like Fiona’s? Fiona laughs in with a gasping half chuckle, as though apologising for her own sense of humour. It sounds nothing like Villanelle, but Eve can’t remember what Villanelle sounded like, and Fiona fills in the gap, until maybe Villanelle always laughed like that.

Eve glares at her screen.

Fiona isn’t Villanelle. In fact, Villanelle is probably dead.

Eve feels the lump in her throat, and wonders if a person’s life flashes before their eyes, if they choke to death on their own sadness.

If her life flashed before her eyes she’d at least get to see Villanelle again.

She’s probably going mad, Eve concludes, stoically.

….

It’s been a month since Fiona started in Eve’s offices. Eve is learning to stop flinching every time she sees her.

But it is an insult, somehow. Every time she catches a glimpse of her, it’s a reminder, that she was wrong, and hysterical, and everyone else was right.

The other day, Elena had cautiously suggested that, if Fiona really was Villanelle in disguise, then surely she would have done more to change her appearance.

“Dyed her hair at least. Cut it. Something like that. And picked a different accent, jesus the scouse accent would be a really tricky one to learn and maintain…”

Eve hadn’t said anything, because she has no more fight left on this one. She can’t state her suspicions any more plainly. She has to keep hold of some dignity.

And besides, Eve must be wrong. There is no universe in which Villanelle hangs around in an office for this long without killing someone, it isn’t in her nature.

“Eve?”

Eve looks up. 

Carolyn is in her doorway, looking….

“Are you free for a moment? We have some footage we’d like you to take a look at.”

…..

Carolyn asks her a question, just before they enter the smaller conference room.

“Are you still… well, there is no gentle way to ask this. Are you still rational, when it comes to Villanelle? Or have you been compromised? Can you still see what is there, or has that become difficult?”

Eve scoffs slightly.

“I’m fine.… what do you need? What are we dealing with, exactly?”

“Old footage”, Carolyn says shortly. “But we were wondering if we were looking at Villanelle, in this particularly capture, and seeing as you are the resident Villanelle expert…”

Eve snorts at that, but allows Carolyn to usher her inside.

Once the necessary acknowledgements have been made to the other senior staff in the room, Carolyn hurries to the matter in question.

“So, Eve, if you’d just be willing to take a glance over what we’ve been considering…”

She taps at her computer a couple of times, and the projected image on the screen behind her starts to move. 

It’s grainy footage. Eve can tell that it’s somewhere in the UK from the street signs, but the image is not clear. 

It’s the exit to a nightclub.

A group of girls emerge. They are obviously drunk, and they stagger slightly, arms around each others necks. Some of them are still dancing. They head away from the camera, and collide with a group of men coming in the other direction. The girls pass through them, turning and shouting in response to some unheard remark.

Carolyn stops the footage.

“One of those men dies in the nightclub three minutes later. We had been pursuing leads in the nightclub, until Ahmad came across this.”

Tanwir Ahmad, a thick set man with a beard, says “That girl there doesn’t leave the nightclub. If you look closely, she was just standing in a doorway, and joins the group as they exit.”

Carolyn replays the footage, and although the angle isn’t great, Eve agrees that this looks to be true. The footage freezes again. Carolyn points at the screen. 

“This man dies. Cut to the femoral artery. Precise. Didn’t notice until he collapsed, and then his friends just thought he was drunk.”

Eve swallows down the rush of adrenaline.

“She’d killed like that before… show me the girls again.”

The footage isn’t of a good quality, and the girl who joins is indistinct, with her hair pinned up. The only real thing that Eve can tell is that she is about the right build. She squints, and then stands, coming over to look at Carolyn’s screen instead.

“I mean… she could be? When was this from?”

Carolyn doesn’t answer. Instead she says “The case didn’t come to our attention for a while. It was just assumed that this was a random stabbing - the victim didn’t seem to be anyone of consequence. But then it was discovered that this man had a high profile online alias, and had significant ties to the EDL as well as numerous accounts that seemed to be linked to malware… we looked at him again.”

Eve stares at the screen. Carolyn says “Keep watching.”

The girls keep walking, and now they are flagging down a taxi. And the girl who joined now separates from them, and although this is now on the edge of the camera’s effectiveness, Eve can see the moment when the girl seems to drop the pretence of being drunk, straightens up, and strolls away.

“Jesus…” she whispers. 

“Look familiar?” Carolyn asks. Eve gulps.

It is Villanelle. But Eve shies away from declaring this fact on the basis of such little footage; she can hardly cite the pricking of her thumbs as evidence.

“It certainly looks a great deal like her…is there any more footage?”

“No. The one across the street was non operational. Bit of a blind spot. This took place in Coventry, and it would seem that their coverage of the edges of the city is less than ideal.”

“When is this from?” Eve asks the question again. Carolyn seems to hesitate. Another person in the conference room, whom Eve vaguely remembers as ‘Amanda’ answers.

“Six months ago. The case was nearly closed, it was only Tanwir’s vigilance that has lead to…”

Eve stops listening.

Six months ago.

“She isn’t dead” she whispers. Carolyn looks steadily at her, as though trying to demonstrate what a calm response looks like. 

“No. It would appear not.”

…..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading
> 
> yotoob.tumblr.com or @yotoob on twitter.
> 
> SPONSORED BY I know, I know, don't look at me like that.


	5. Binary Choice

She isn’t dead. 

Eve hadn’t killed her.

The first feeling is a wave of joy, one that Eve rides all the way home.

Villanelle is alive. Or at least, she was alive six months ago. And Eve was right, dying just isn't the sort of thing that Villanelle would do.

Carolyn asks her to keep the sighting of Villanelle to herself, and Eve complies, because if she can behave herself in this area then maybe she’ll be kept in the loop if there are any further reports on her.

So she doesn’t tell Elena, doesn’t tell Kenny, and she doesn’t even take the slighter longer route out of the office that she has started taking, the one that allows her to glance quickly at Fiona’s work space and wonder… wonder…

She’s stopped wondering. Fiona looks enough like Villanelle for Eve to have had a near nervous breakdown, back when she was missing Villanelle, mourning for her, desperately hoping against hope that Eve hadn’t killed her. 

But she isn’t Villanelle. Eve can now see that the moles on her cheek are in slightly the wrong place, and maybe her hair line is different, and she’s clumsy, and nothing like the assured presence of Villanelle.

Fiona looks enough like Villanelle to be able to look at her, and see her face. But the rest of her… isn’t enough.

…..

It’s only when she gets home that Eve starts to lose her happiness.

It drains from her, like water down a plug hole.

Villanelle is still out there. She was in England, six months ago.

And… Eve didn’t know anything about it. 

Why didn’t Villanelle come to find her?

Eve has always expected that Villanelle would have come to murder her or… or. Or the other option. But it had always felt like a binary choice. Eve hadn’t even considered that there was a third, infinitely less appealing option.

That Villanelle simply didn’t care about her any more.

For the first time in months, she digs out the Villanelle perfume. It didn’t smell anything like Villanelle, in fact the closest that Eve had ever found to something that smelled like Villanelle was on the morning after the fifth of November, when the faint drift of the previous night’s bonfires had lingered in the dewy air.

The Villanelle perfume doesn’t smell like Villanelle, but Eve puts it on anyway.

God she misses her.

And, because Eve has stopped pretending that she isn’t attracted to Villanelle long ago, she imagines that Villanelle is here, with her.

And this time, Eve would wait for the other option.

…..

“Jesus, what’s wrong with you today?”

Eve sighs, and then motions Elena over towards her. Elena complies, scooting across the gap between their desks with a small sigh.

“Have you ever…” Eve leans forward conspiratorially, and then realises she has no way to articulate what she is feeling.

“Oh, never mind.”

“No, what, come on, you’ve been walking around all morning like your pet died.”

Eve leans in her chair, and abruptly says “I want to start dating again.”

Elena’s eyebrows rise, and it’s enough of a change of tack to intrigue her.

“Yeah? You tried any dating apps?”

Eve makes a face.

“No.”

Elena sighs heavily. “Oh my god, get with the programme…. dating apps. You’d be a hit.”

Eve snorts, and then turns back to her computer screen.

“Please. Anyway, I don’t have the time.”

“Whatever” Elena says airily, and then another thought seems to strike her. “I could set you up with someone. You into men or women these days?”

Eve turns to glare at her, and Elena holds up her hands. “What? It’s a valid question, in this day and age. Dating apps do that for you, you can say, I’m interested in women, blonde, Russian, not the cuddling type, good with weapons-”

“Oh sure, ha ha… I’m going down to the canteen, you coming?”

Elena shakes her head with a smile, explaining that she has to finish the case notes she’s working on. Eve nods, and leaves alone.

…..

It’s shepherds pie for lunch.

Eve rolls her eyes at herself, but takes a portion anyway.

Great, only she could have a pavlovian response to shepherds pie. Eve fights off the glumness, and tries to find an empty table.

She’s out there. And… well, Eve had thought that the one upside of stabbing Villanelle was that it would guarantee some kind of riposte, but apparently not.

Eve gets her case notes out, and then pulls her phone out of her pocket, and checks her email. She eats a couple of mouthfuls of her meal in a distracted way, remembering a different meal.

“Do you mind if I sit here?”

Jesus, it’s Fiona. 

Eve stares at her for what is probably a second too long, and then motions at nothing.

“Uh. Sure.”

Fiona sits down with a smile, and says “Don’t worry, I can see you’re busy, I won’t chat.”

Fiona doesn’t move at all like Villanelle. She doesn’t laugh like her, she doesn’t blink like her, she doesn’t walk like her…

She does eat like her.

There’s something about the way her elbows has splayed out. The way she leans over her food protectively, as though she’s worried that the plate is going to get snatched away. The way her fork is always loaded slightly too high.

And then there is her face, there is always her face.

Shepherd’s Pie… why sit opposite Eve today?

Villanelle’s eyes glance up to meet hers, and one of her eyebrows twitches slightly, in silent interrogation.

“Jesus” Eve whispers, every emotion at once trying to claw its way through her chest.

Fiona straightens up, and looks embarrassed.

“Sorry, I’m starving, my table manners are terrible when I’m hungry, me mam always said-”

Eve stares at her, and then closes her eyes.

“No, you’re okay, its me, I’m… having a bad day. Or some kind of break from being rational, I don’t know.”

Fiona clears her throat awkwardly, and then says “Sorry. Is it me?”

What a question.

“No… just… you were _her_ , for a second, but-” Eve shrugs. “She didn’t sound like you.”

Fiona laughs.

“People don’t generally. You should hear me when I’m up with family, this is me trying to tone the Scouse down a little.”

Eve takes another mouthful of shepherds pie, and tries not to feel too stupid.

“How’s it going, anyway? Do you like working here?”

Fiona shrugs. 

“It’s alright. The thing about working for the security services… it’s all paperwork, at the end of the day. I’m not at your level, chasing people across Europe.”

Eve snorts, surprised that Fiona knows but she supposes that it is inevitable that someone would have told Fiona the office gossip.

“Well. That wasn’t a regular… it wasn’t supposed to happen like that.”

Fiona frowns, and then waggles a friendly fork at her.

“Still pretty cool though. You battled a psychopath. I’m stuck battling a photocopier.”

It’s out of her mouth before Eve can guard against it.

“You should never call a psychopath a psychopath.”

Fiona stares at her, still. And when she stills, when Eve isn’t receiving a flood of counter information in her movements, in her tone…

It’s Villanelle.

“It upsets them” Eve finishes, after a long moment. Villanelle stares at her, and her lips part.

Eve wants to slap her.

Villanelle bites on the inside of her cheek, and then picks up her fork again.

“Yeah?” Fiona says. “Sounds about right, I’ll remember that. I’ve been calling the photocopier some bad names, maybe that’s why it doesn’t work for me…”

Eve abandons her meal.

…..

Balance the probabilities, Kenny had said. 

Balance the probabilities.

Either Eve has gone mad, or… or everyone else has.

Balance the probabilities.

Eve returns to her desk, and brings up the prison head shot of Villanelle.

It looks nothing like Villanelle, she reminds herself. Eve had concluded that, over and over again. But that was before Fiona had turned up, with Villanelle’s face and Villanelle’s eyes and Villanelle’s mouth and Villanelle’s-

“Eve?”

Eve jumps, and minimises the image quickly. She turns to look at the door.

Carolyn is in the door frame, looking weary.

“Could I borrow you, for a moment please? We need you to take a look at something.”

…..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading
> 
> yotoob.tumblr.com, @yotoob on twitter.
> 
> SPONSORED BY GOGGLEBOX


	6. Smudge

There’s a picture of a man, projected onto the screen. It looks to be a reasonably recent headshot. Carolyn gestures at him.

“Duncan Abrams. Fairly notable member of an unpleasant gentleman’s club, who’s main interest seems to be horses, misogyny and thuggery. He had previously given not insignificant amounts of money to the Conservative Party, but seems to have gone quiet recently.”

Eve waits, for the inevitable.

“He was found dead in a car, early morning this morning. Stanwell Moor. A jogger spotted him. He’d been shot in the head.”

Eve waits.

“Seems to be fairly routine, and it certainly wouldn’t have reached our desks, except for the note.”

Eve waits. Carolyn sighs. 

“And even the note doesn’t signify anything, however, it triggered something in the system, and so here we are. It was flagged up to me by Jessica.”

Eve waits, until she can’t wait any more.

“The note?”

Carolyn sighs, and then slides a zip locked plastic bag over to her. “We need to have it back down to forensics, well, an hour ago, but I was hoping that you might be able to confirm or deny the handwriting. I remembered that you had mentioned a note, although we don’t seem to have it on file…”

The note has a smudge of blood in the corner, which has crinkled the paper. It looks like it has been torn from a cheap notepad. There also appears to be…

“Teethmarks?” Eve asks, querulously. Carolyn fingers flex on the desk in front of her.

“Yes. The note was found hanging from his mouth.”

It doesn’t matter. 

There, in the same handwriting, are the same words.

 _Sorry Baby_.

…..

Other than the note, it is an extremely mundane death.

Duncan Abrams is seen leaving his regular pub at around quarter past ten by locals. His car is caught by CCTV a couple of times on his route home, and all things appear to be normal.

But then, he doesn’t arrive home. His wife calls the police. Abrams’ body is found in his car, in a deserted spot just of the Thames. He has a bullet in his head, but no other sign of violence. The only other discerning feature is the note.

Eve takes a careful photo of it on her work phone, and slides the note back to Carolyn. 

She suddenly feels extremely watched, and not just by Carolyn, by the others in the room as well. They’re all senior to her, and all looking at her.

Carolyn clears her throat.

“Of course, there is also the possibility that this isn’t Villanelle. This could be a lover’s tiff. ‘Sorry baby’ could reflect… regret at the shooting of Duncan?”

“Remorse… but then the killer puts it in his mouth?” This is Jessica, who brought the incident to Carolyn’s attention in the first place. Carolyn sighs.

“Well. It certainly isn’t - this is hardly conclusive proof of anything. And there is nothing else about the killing that suggests Villanelle, where is the showmanship, where is the fun, where is the-”

“It’s her handwriting” Eve says shortly. Carolyn blinks, and then clicks her tongue slightly.

“Yes. I had rather worried that you would say that…”

….

“The placement of the note in his mouth… that’s a bit weird, right?”

It’s Kenny speaking, and he’s inspecting the image on Eve’s phone. Elena slides it away from him, and takes another look herself.

“Was it like… screwed up and _inside_ his mouth? Or just-”

“Just pressed between his lips” Eve says, fighting down the usual wave of excitement that she would never dare to tell the others about. She’s pretty sure that other people track down killers to hand out justice. Eve does it because she finds the whole thing fascinating. 

“And you’re sure it is her handwriting?”

“Almost certain.” Actually, Eve isn’t that certain. She hadn’t kept the original note, the one she found in her suitcase, for more than a couple of days. She’d been so _angry_ with Villanelle, with the way she had killed Bill, that the ‘baby’ had mocked her mercilessly. She’d thrown it away.

But it feels like Villanelle’s work, even though nothing about the circumstances feel like Villanelle at all.

Balance the probabilities.

“Okay, if it isn’t Villanelle, then what is happening here?”

Kenny clears his throat.

“Well, in that case… it has to be a lover’s argument. This isn’t business, ‘sorry baby’ doesn’t make any sense in a business scenario. So, a woman that Abrams is having an affair with, maybe he’s breaking up with her, she gets mad, kills him… ‘sorry baby’.”

“Could be a man” Elena cuts in. “What, don’t give me that look… men are more prone to violence. So, his gay lover shoots him. Writes a ‘Sorry baby’ note.”

“And puts it in his mouth?” Eve says dubiously. “That doesn’t seem a very… rational.”

Elena shrugs. “Killing people isn’t very rational either. Putting a note in the mouth pales into insignificance if you’ve just shot someone.”

Eve tries to untangle the other strand that is niggling at her.

“If this is Villanelle… why is this so boring?”

“ _Boring?_ ” Kenny asks, and Eve flaps a hand at him, impatient.

“You know what I mean. Usually she’s… killing people in broad daylight, or surrounded by witnesses, or infiltrating homes, or, or… performing. In some way. This is just… bland.”

Elena rubs her chin thoughtfully.

“Could she have changed her style? Maybe she didn’t like how close you got, maybe she wanted to fly a bit more under the radar?”

 _How close you got?_ Eve remembers Paris, remembers exactly how close.

“Doesn’t seem… likely. But, oh god, I don’t know. It feels like her, do you know what I mean? Kenny?”

Kenny nods. “Yeah. I guess. Although why would she… would she just take a gap year? Why hasn’t she been active before now?”

“Maybe she has been active, and we just haven’t noticed.” This is Elena. She gestures at her desk. “I have several unsolved murders and disappearances on my desk, and some of them are people of political influence, donors, you know. All in the south east. I’ve been trying to hang it all together for months, but there’s been nothing to go on. Some of them have been officially declared suicide, in others people have just…vanished. It’s professional work, if they are murders. But it isn’t showy in the slightest. But if Villanelle has changed her style…”

“Jesus” Eve whispers. And then she says “But why break with the pattern now. She must know that… that I’d notice a ‘Sorry Baby’? Why does she want to be noticed now?”

Elena and Kenny both look at a loss. After a second Kenny spreads his hands.

“She got bored?”

Balance the probabilities, Eve thinks to herself.

“This is a lot easier to deal with if we just stick to the belief that it’s a lover’s quarrel.”

“It’s not though, is it. Let’s be real.” Elena says plainly. Eve wants to agree, but she can’t tell if it is just wishful thinking.

 _Sorry Baby?_ Is Villanelle still talking to her? Is Eve still baby?

She’s not supposed to feel happy that a murderous psychopath is still paying attention to her. That isn’t a normal human reaction.

 _Baby…_ she thinks.

And then she nearly jumps out of her skin when Villanelle sticks her head around the door.

“Oh, you’re back. Sorry, it’s just, you left these notes on the table at lunch. I came by earlier but you weren’t here, and I didn’t want to just leave them on your desk in case… I dunno in case I wasn’t supposed to do that with documents…”

Fiona trails off in the face of their stares, and then clears her throat.

“So, uh. Here you go.”

She approaches Eve cautiously, and proffers the notes.

“Thanks,” Eve manages. Fiona shrugs, and then folds her arms one way across her chest, and then the other way.

“Um. Sorry if I freaked you out at lunch, you seemed a bit… you know. Maybe I should start wearing a balaclava around you.” Fiona suggests this with a half smile, and Eve snorts, acknowledging the joke.

“Not sure that would be a very reassuring presence, someone wearing a balaclava around the MI5 offices.”

Fiona looks immediately apologetic. “No, I guess not.”

There’s a silence, in which no one seems to know what to say. Eve glances at Elena, who raises her eyebrows in question. Fiona clears her throat.

“Okay, well I’d best get back to my desk. Thanks for the company at lunch.”

Eve suddenly feels embarrassed.

“Oh, uh. No problem. See you later.”

Fiona smiles as she leaves. Eve offers a weak smile in return.

When it is just the three of them again, Eve doesn’t know what to say. Kenny raises his eyebrows at nothing. Elena coughs, once.

“You had lunch with her?”

Eve flaps a hand in dismissal. “Not… really. She sat down opposite me.”

Elena widens her eyes briefly. “Hoo boy” she mutters.

…..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading
> 
> yotoob.tumblr.com, or @yotoob on twitter
> 
> SPONSORED BY VOTING


	7. Trial Pending

Villanelle is out there. 

Now that the initial wave of…. joy has passed, Eve doesn’t know what to do with herself.

She paces around her home, and thank god that she moved out, because the thought of being in _that_ kitchen is just a bit too much for her. 

Eve spent hours in that kitchen with Niko. But having a knife pressed against your throat really grabs your memory’s attention.

Eve microwaves some soup, and then takes it to the small corner of her open plan living space that she loftily thinks of as ‘her office”. She pushes aside all of her notes on amnesia, opens up her computer, and starts looking back through the old cases.

Elena had been correct. There was nothing unremarkable about these cases. About a dozen of them, and nothing to really link them apart from the fact that these were all people with some kind of influence, either in the world of politics or media.

Three of them have been formally declared suicide. One accidental death. Four of them a missing persons reports. The others are murders, neat, quick murders. An attempted robbery gone wrong, a random act of violence… In a couple of cases a business partner of the victim has already been charged by the police, trial pending the gathering of evidence.

The only remarkable thing about each case is the distinct lack of forensic evidence, or witnesses. It’s like there is void that surrounds each victim. And that is unusual enough for Elena to have noticed, and to keep working away on each case, looking for the link that might be there.

What if _this_ is all Villanelle? What if she’s been in London this whole time, but no one noticed because she’s changed her style so radically?

These can’t all be the work of Villanelle. Some of them will just be suicides, will just be disappearances.

But… Eve can feel her heart rate increase.

 _Sorry Baby…_

Sorry for what?

…..

“So what is she apologising for?”

Kenny and Elena share a look, and then Kenny clears his throat.

“For murder? She’d just killed someone.”

“Yes” Eve mutters, “Yes I know that. But she doesn’t apologise for any of her other murders. So why is she apologising for this one?”

Elena understands, and nods her head.

“Are we assuming that she is still aiming her apologies at you?”

Eve pauses, because she hadn’t even considered that anyone else _could_ be ‘Baby’.

“Uh” she stutters, and then continues awkwardly “Well, let’s run with that assumption and see what we are left with. Last time she said sorry was because she’d killed Bill, stolen my suitcase and um. Refilled it with different clothes.”

“Oh…kay” Kenny says thoughtfully. “Well. Why is she apologising to _you_ for this murder? Did you know Abrams in any way?”

Eve turns to the screen, and stares at the picture. There are two pictures on the board now - one that Carolyn showed to her in the initial meeting, and another one, of how his body was found. The note hangs delicately between his lips.

“No” she says. “I’ve never seen him before.”

“So why does this one merit an apology to you?”

Eve sighs. “I have no idea.”

“Maybe she isn’t apologising for the murder? Maybe she’s… apologising for something else? For her disappearance?” This is Elena. Eve rubs at her forehead.

“But why now? What has triggered the apology?”

“Is it… god, I know how this sounds, I swear I’m not- is it an anniversary? When did you stab her?”

“Over a year ago” Eve says shortly, not wishing to examine the word anniversary at all. “There’s no significance to the day of his murder, not for me anyway. Besides, surely it should be me apologising to her, if this was the stabbing… anniversary.”

“So… maybe this isn’t about you at all. Maybe “baby” is someone else.” Kenny sounds almost apologetic as he raises this suggestion.

Eve doesn’t know what to say. Elena clears her throat after a second, and cautiously changes the subject.

“I still think the note in the mouth thing is weird…”

…..

Eve goes to find Carolyn.

When Eve turns the corner onto Carolyn’s corridor, Fiona is just closing Carolyn’s door behind her.

Eve fights off the instinct to retreat, and hide behind the corner again. Fiona doesn’t look her way, and walks in the opposite direction, towards her own corner of the building.

Even when she doesn’t know anyone is watching, Fiona still walks…. well. Like Fiona. Not like Villanelle. She wears slightly mismatched office wear, and brogues, and it’s all a little crumpled, a little disorganised.

Eve firmly reminds herself that she’s being stupid. And besides, now that Eve knows Villanelle is out there again, murdering, Fiona becomes even less like her. If it wasn’t for her face…. but then, Eve doesn’t know if she remembers Villanelle’s face at all now. Fiona has blurred that line for her completely.

Huffing to herself slightly, Eve approaches Carolyn’s office, and knocks twice.

“Come in”

Carolyn is at her desk, typing. She holds up a finger.

“Just… let me complete this thought. Do sit down.”

Eve does as she is instructed.

Carolyn’s office is nice. It has a window out of which the greenery of trees can be seen. Eve’s office space doesn’t have a window to the outside world. She, Kenny and Elena share a work room together, and Eve supposes that she should be grateful that they have that measure of privacy. They have windows and a glass door out to the wider work room, so they can usually see who is coming. 

Eve is well aware that they are considered a strange trio. She has stopped caring. They have experienced more than most.

She is jealous of Carolyn’s desk though, which is large and clutter free. There is a paper weight, and a jug of water on an expensive looking tray, with a couple of glasses next to it. 

Eve’s desk is piled high with paper, post-it’s, extracts from studies on unusual human behaviours-

Carolyn stops typing, and turns to look at her.

“Hello. This isn’t a scheduled meeting is it? - Andrew has a tendency to update _his_ calendar of my schedule, but not _my_ calendar, and I keep explaining to him that his entire role is to help me process my meetings, but he seems to be wilfully ignoring the ‘share’ button and-”

Eve interrupts.

“No, this isn’t a scheduled meeting.”

“Oh.” Carolyn nods, and then motions for her to continue. “I can give you five minutes.”

Eve clears her throat.

“I think that you believe Villanelle has been flying under our radars for a while now. I’ve been looking through the case work Elena has been working on… you’ve been sending it her way because you have your suspicions, and you were using us as a filtering process to see if we flagged it as being suspect.”

Carolyn raises her eyebrows, and then says “…possibly. I felt that, if anyone was going to suggest that Villanelle was going to be active, it would have been your team. But, so far, you haven’t felt any of it to be her work.”

Eve shrugs. “Well. We were on the look out for… drama. If some of these cases are her, they are very low key, compared to what we are used to. I’m only now drawing different conclusions because-”

“The note” Carolyn interrupts. Eve agrees.

“Yes. The note. And I was wondering… whether there was anything from these other cases… any detail that wasn’t written up, or wasn’t noticed by the officers at the time, because is was too innocuous.”

Carolyn gazes blankly at her.

“Can I just check… are you asking me if I am keeping secret files of details?”

Eve shakes her head hastily.

“Uh, no, I’m asking… for permission to go and interview the crime scene officers. See if they… if there is anything that wasn’t noted down at the time.”

Carolyn sighs, and clicks on her mouse a couple of times, clearly checking something on screen.

“You won’t find them very receptive, the officers will not like the allusion that they’ve missed something, particularly on closed cases. Also… your other case work?”

Eve rolls her eyes.

“If this is Villanelle, then an active assassin in London probably merits some reorganising of priorities, doesn’t it?”

Carolyn’s eyebrows flicker, and she nods, looking exasperated.

“Fine. Please keep this between the three of you… I assume you have told Elena and Kenny? And please stay in the building, no further field trips. I’ll send a note down to the Met.”

Eve nods, and stands up to go, excitement flooding her fingertips. She probably doesn’t do a very good job of concealing her excitement, because Carolyn sighs abruptly.

“Why does it have to be you, Eve?”

Eve stills, suddenly cautious.

“Because… I know her the best? I know what I am looking for.”

Carolyn stares at her for a moment, her face betraying nothing. And then she nods. “Very well. No more than twenty hours of case time though. If you can’t find anything, then we’ll just focus on what we have in front of us.”

Eve is just reaching for the door handle, when a thought strikes her. She struggles with the change of topic, and probably doesn’t hit the correct pitch at all.

“Oh, uh, I saw Fiona leaving, just as I came up. Is everything…okay?”

Carolyn turns back to her computer screen, and this time she does roll her eyes slightly. “Yes. I am mentoring her. She seems to be very focused on the photocopier, goodness knows why…”

…..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> yotoob.tumblr.com, or @yotoob on twitter
> 
> SPONSORED BY JOSH LYMAN'S SECRET PLAN TO FIGHT INFLATION (please can someone bring back the West Wing I miss it so)


	8. Restricted

There’s no way that twenty hours gives Eve the necessary time to interview all the first response officers attached to these crimes.

She selects the three cases which are the most obvious murders, because, she decides, these officers would probably have the most cause to be vigilant.

Carolyn was correct of course, they do view it as something of an affront. Eve spends several awkward hours over the course of a number of days, trying to demand answers to questions that she can barely formulate.

“Was there anything else unusual about the scene?”

“Was there anything about the circumstances that suggested the gender of the killer?”

“Did you… see anything strange?”

But no, everything had been neatly documented. There was nothing of note missed, because their job was to make sure they covered every detail.

The officers found the gender questions the most bizarre. No, there wasn’t anything that suggested the killer was female. 

The closest that Eve could get to the officers allowing that the killer might have been female was that there was nothing about the kills that suggested a male killer either. In fact, there was very little about the kills at all. They were neat, precise, and almost entirely featureless. 

“Boring” Eve mutters to herself, leafing through her papers at her desk. “Why is all of this so boring?” 

Kenny is sifting through the same case, resting his chin on his hand.

“Mmm…. are we sure this one is even her? Are we sure- god, are we sure any of this is her?”

Eve puts down her papers, momentarily at a loss.

“What? What do you mean?” 

Kenny sighs. 

“This is all… are we sure that we are actually looking at Villanelle? All we have is ‘Sorry Baby’, and the rest is - she’s just not in any of this. And we _know_ Villanelle’s not in any of this because my mother has been using us as an unwitting Villanelle filter all this time.”

Eve eyes him curiously. “You okay?” she asks him. Kenny sighs.

“I just feel like we’re wasting our time. And… it feels like everyone else here has a purpose and we’re just the special ‘Paranoia Unit’. One note that says ‘Sorry Baby’ doesn’t mean Villanelle is back, not matter how much you want it to mean that.”

Kenny seems to spot that he may have gone slightly too far the moment he stops speaking, and holds up a hand.

“I didn’t mean-”

“No, it’s fine” Eve says shortly, and she gathers up her papers. “I’m going to the station.”

…..

She’s nearly reached the end of her twenty hour quota. Villanelle drifts around the cases like the smoke from an extinguished match, formless and intangible.

 _Paranoia Unit?_ Eve doesn’t know at what point a gut feeling becomes paranoia. Or a hopeless sort of hope.

The nightclub murder, six months ago. That was definitely Villanelle. _Sorry Baby_. That was almost certainly her.

Eve stifles a groan, and smoothes her fingers over her temple. Paranoia? She’s only just accepted that Villanelle isn’t gawking her way around MI5. And now… god it’s like Villanelle is everywhere, all over again, painted underneath her fingertips.

It’s better, than when Villanelle was nowhere. But only marginally, because now Eve is caught, teetering, waiting for the tock that follows the tick.

“Eve Polastri?”

The officer at the desk motions at her.

“Thank you for waiting, if you could follow me please.

…..

This officer, just like all the others, resents the implication that she hasn’t done her job correctly. 

But she seems happier to accept the premise that her case could be a small part of a bigger picture, so she talks through the circumstances carefully.

“Ian Murphy. Wife had recently filed for divorce, citing that he was abusive. Murphy had recently made some poor business investments, and he was skirting on bankruptcy. He was seen drinking heavily at a strip club. He leaves around one thirty am, arrives in his apartment. He was found to have extremely high levels of over the counter pain killers in his system, along with the alcohol. No signs of a struggle, nor anything that implies suspicious circumstances.”

Eve nods, leafing through her notes. There is a photo of Murphy, who was found in his bed. She stares at him.

This one barely feels like Villanelle at all. Eve has only chosen this case because it is the most recent, happening barely a month ago. 

“Murphy moved in the same circles as another recent death; Duncan Abrams. Did you come across any reference to him, in your investigation?”

Officer Gray thinks for a moment, and then shakes her head.

“I don’t believe so. I’d have to double check my notes, but I’m almost certain… there were no reference to anything wider. Very straightforward case, there was no reason to consider anything other than suicide.”

Eve nods, and then looks closer at the photo of Murphy.

“This is how he was found?”

“Of course.”

“So… his hand was next to his head like that? It looks- that looks unnatural.”

Gray sighs. “It is… not unheard of in suicide cases like this, to find the deceased’s hand next to, or near the mouth. Sometimes, if there is a last minute regret - the hand can even be found on the mouth. An attempt to make themselves sick… something like that.”

Eve looks sharply at her.

“You’re saying…that his hand could have been over his mouth? And then fallen off?”

“I’m not saying that it what happened.”

“But that’s how it could have been? His hand placed over his mouth- covering his mouth, but then it slips off as the muscles relax in death?”

Gray’s eyebrows flicker.

“Possibly. But, as I have said, that isn’t unheard of in suicide cases-”

Eve’s heard enough.

…..

“That’s two cases, the two _most recent_ cases, in which there is something about the mouth! That has to mean something, that’s not just a…”

“We still don’t know that this is Villanelle, this isn’t enough to build any kind of-”

“I _don’t care!_ ” Eve shouts, far too loudly. Kenny stops talking abruptly.

Eve closes her eyes, and takes a deep, settling breath. She holds up a hand.

“Sorry. But this is… I just know it is her. I know that… doesn’t work, from a procedural point of view, but that’s all I’ve got.”

There’s a silence, and then Elena clears her throat.

“Okay, but if we work on the basis that this is Villanelle - where does that leave us? What are we supposed to do next?”

“If the mouth thing is a _thing…_ ”, and this now Kenny, speaking slowly, “Then it is a relatively recent change in her style. The two most recent cases.”

“Mouth things…. okay, if we go all the way back to like, primary school psych-criminology, mouth things imply… secrets. The unsaid. Communication that is somehow restricted…”

“‘Sorry Baby’… sorry for the secrets?” Eve rubs at her chin. Elena shifts awkwardly on her chair.

“I mean… are there secrets? Between you and Villanelle?”

Eve had never told anyone how close she came to letting Villanelle kiss her. How close she had been to allowing the moment, _embracing_ the moment…

_I think about your eyes, and your mouth…_

“Villanelle probably thinks so.”

…..

They break for lunch.

It isn’t Shepherd’s pie this time. It’s a relief.

Eve collects her tray, and a glass of water, balancing them on one hand as she reaches for the cutlery.

Something about reaching for a knife helps her brain click into gear.

The day before the Abrams murder… the day before ‘Sorry Baby’… that had been the day that Eve had been shown the footage of the nightclub murder, from six months ago. 

That had been the day Eve had realised that Villanelle wasn’t dead, and was still active.

And she hadn’t reached out to Eve at all.

_Sorry Baby…_

Eve looks around, and there she is. Fiona. Sitting at an empty table. Minding her own business.

Eve selects a knife, and starts walking towards her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading
> 
> yotoob.tumblr.com, @yotoob on twitter, please tell me your feelings, I LIVE FOR IT.
> 
> SPONSORED BY DAILY UPDATES APPARENTLY, WHO THE FUCK KNEW?


	9. Pretty Intense

Fiona doesn’t see Eve coming until she is almost at her table. She looks up, startled, and then grins around her mouthful of food.

“Can I sit here?” Eve asks, levelly. Fiona (and Eve is being so careful to think of her as Fiona) puts her hand over her mouth, to indicate that she can’t talk without being impolite. But she nods and motions at the seat opposite with her fork, and Eve pulls out the chair.

Fiona swallows awkwardly, and then says “Hiya.”

“Hello” Eve replies. She makes no move to pick up her cutlery. She just looks at her, watches the trace of her jaw line, the eyes that look so innocent.

Fiona looks away from her, and takes another mouthful of food, chewing slowly. She makes a pretence of looking over Eve’s shoulder, as though distracted and not noticing Eve’s stare. But she can’t maintain it for long, and her eyes flicker back to Eve, glancing at her and then glancing away.

“Jesus” she mumbles, and then swallows again, before smiling slightly. “You’re pretty intense, you know that?”

Eve inclines her head in agreement, and then says “I have been told.”

Fiona bites her lip, and then looks away.

“Well. They’re weren’t wrong.”

Eve watches her, and… is Fiona blushing?

She clears her throat, and picks up her cutlery, making some pretence at normal.

“Sorry. I can’t… sometimes my brain just… sorry. You could be her twin.”

Fiona wrinkles her nose, and pushes a carrot around on her plate. She smiles cautiously. 

“You don’t have to apologise, about the intenseness. I don’t mind it.” Fiona bites the inside of her cheek and then glances into Eve’s eyes, hesitating.

“I like it.” And… is she still blushing?

Eve laughs abruptly, suddenly remembering the situation, the foolishness of her actions. This girl isn’t Villanelle, and she doesn’t know anything about… any of the things Villanelle has done to Eve. The comprehensive way in which she turned Eve’s life upside down, just for the sheer fun of it.

“Oh god… I just, I forget, that you aren’t her. You look…” and Eve trails off, because ‘identical’ doesn’t really cover it, and besides it isn’t true. Fiona isn’t identical. Everything about her movements, her mannerisms… is different.

“Sorry” Eve apologises again. “I don’t mean to keep looking at you like I want to kill you.”

Fiona laughs.

“Well, it’s not quite that. You just look like you want to… um. I don’t know. But it’s a pretty intense look.”

Now Eve is blushing.

“Oh. Well, yes, you’re right, I probably wouldn’t kill her.”

“You stabbed her.” It isn’t a question. Fiona looks awkward the second she says it. “Sorry. Someone…made a joke. About how I should wear some kind of body armour around you.”

Eve sighs, but it isn’t Fiona’s fault.

“Yeah, I did. That was… a mistake.”

Fiona stares at her for a long second, and then raises her eyebrows in a way that Eve refuses to find familiar.

“Shit. She must have been really annoying.”

With a laugh, Eve drops her head forward, and then sits back in her chair.

“Oh you have no idea. And now… oh, some stuff has come up and it’s like I’m surrounded by her again, and you’re just sitting there, with her face, and… god. Maybe I am going mad.”

“You don’t have to be mad to work here, but it helps” Fiona mumbles, partly to herself, and this time does stab a carrot onto her fork. She pops it into her mouth, and then gestures at Eve.

“Do you have a photo of her? I haven’t seen… I’m not important enough to have access to the files, obviously, but- I’m curious? You don’t have to show me any of the details, or like, if this is breaking some kind of rule then obviously don’t, but…”

Eve wrestles with herself, because it is breaking a rule, slightly. But it’s only Villanelle’s face. Where is the harm in showing Fiona? She can see it herself just by looking in the mirror.

Besides, she has Villanelle’s prison photo on her phone, for reasons that she doesn’t really want to have to justify to anyone. She rolls her eyes at herself, and starts tapping her phone to bring up the image. Eve slides her phone over to Fiona, who peers into it.

“Shiiit” Fiona drags the word out, low and slow. She gives a half laugh, and then glances up at Eve quickly. 

“This bitch has got my face.”

Eve snorts abruptly, and then shakes her head, laughing. “Oh god, yeah, she really does. I think I should talk to you more often, because every time I don’t speak to you the visual takes over and I end up… well. Being too intense.”

“Oh fuck, no wonder you kept on looking at me like… you were looking at a ghost. Jesus. I love… god maybe I have a long lost twin? Should I speak to me mam?”

Laughing, Eve retrieves her phone.

“No. You were born in Liverpool right? Villanelle…is Russian. Like, really Russian. As Russian as a person is able to be without just being a bottle of vodka.”

Fiona is quiet for a moment, and then she clears her throat.

“Do you want to go for a drink? After work some time this week? I just… this place is so oppressive, I feel like I can’t- we can’t- talk? I think…. I mean, I’d like that.”

“Sure” Eve says easily. “You know, it’s a relief to be able to talk about Villanelle without it being… life and death all the time, you know?”

……

“You’re doing what now?”

Eve rolls her eyes, regretting that she even mentioned it.

“Just… going for a drink. It isn’t a- look, forget I mentioned it.”

“Uh” Elena scoffs “No? You are going for a drink with a Villanelle body double but it isn’t a thing?”

It’s three days since Eve had sat with Fiona for lunch. Eve has had time to reflect on whether it is a good idea, and has concluded that, whilst it isn’t a great idea, it doesn’t have to be a bad idea either.

There’s been no sign of Villanelle in that time. Eve had gone to Carolyn with her thoughts on how the two most recent cases that they’ve linked with Villanelle seemed to have a mouth connect. Carolyn had cautiously allowed that this might be an indicator of ‘the unsaid’, but, as this idea didn’t really get either Eve or Carolyn any closer to tracking down Villanelle, it was a bit of a moot point. Eve had left Carolyn’s office with no instructions other than to try and nail down the links between the victims.

“It’s just a drink, Elena.”

“Hey”, and here Elena indicates at herself “I can drink? If you need a drinking partner, maybe pick one that isn’t just another step in this tango of weird that you seem to keep participating in…”

Eve grabs her coat, suddenly angry.

“No, you know what, that’s the problem. Every single person in this building thinks that I’m some kind of… freak, because of how the last year went down, and everyone thinks that I’m obsessed, or that they need to talk to me differently or- Fiona talks to me as if I’m Eve, rather than…fuck, I don’t know. Villanelle’s girlfriend.”

Elena just blinks at her, and then says “Okay. Well. I’m not sure that doing the whole… after works drinks with Fiona is going to help your standing across the wider office.”

Eve shrugs. “I don’t care. I said I was going for a drink with her, I am going for a drink with her. And my only mistake so far, has been telling you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading
> 
> yotoob.tumblr.com, @yotoob on twitter (also, ahem, if you wanted to buy me a drink I have the same user name on ko-fi)
> 
> SPONSORED BY STRICTLY COME DANCING WE LOVE THAT SHOW


	10. The Fucked Up

“So… wow.” Fiona takes a sip of her drink, and then eyeballs Eve. “God, no wonder everyone is so fucked up over this Villanelle - she killed your boss?”

Eve nods, and she hasn’t felt this relaxed in forever. She hasn’t felt this _honest_ in forever. 

“Yeah. It was… god it was awful. I miss him, we were…we were really close. Bill was- he didn’t have anything to do with this, and I dragged him into it, dragged him to Berlin…”

Fiona waves a hand in dismissal.

“No - it wasn’t your fault… you just said that he was _following_ the psychopath, that was his choice, and not… you know.” Fiona takes another drink, and seems to frown in concentration, before deciding. “Not a good one.”

“He had a kid. And… oh god, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to talk about her all the time.”

Fiona shrugs, and then pops a peanut in her mouth.

“No, it’s fine. I’m interested. I think I must have one of those faces, people mistake me for lots of people. But I have never had such an interesting lookalike. Usually people just tell me I look like that girl from Doctor Foster.”

Eve stares at her for a second.

“I’m not familiar.”

“Oh. I was… a bitch. I think? And pregnant. I didn’t really watch it.”

Eve shrugs, and then takes a gulp of her own drink.

“You want to go somewhere else?”

“Yup” Fiona says easily, and then finishes her drink. “Mexican food, let’s find some of that.”

…..

It’s later.

Eve is staring at Fiona’s face.

Fiona grins at her, and then looks away. “You’ve gotta stop doing that, you make me feel like there’s something on my face.”

Eve smiles. Fiona glances back at her, laughs, and then covers her face with her hands.

…..

“Do you miss her?”

Eve shrugs, and then nods. 

“It’s not… how that sounds though. I’m not insane. But, she turned my life upside down. I had a husband, now I don’t, I had respect at work, now I don’t, I had a best friend, now I don’t. I had all of those things, and Villanelle took them all, and then… she just disappeared. She created this great big void, burned all the things that I valued, sat there in the ashes, and then… disappeared. And I can’t figure out how to bring any of them back, so I’m just here. Empty. Waiting for her to come back.”

“You stabbed her though. Why would she come back?”

“Because she’d lose the argument. If it was just left at that.”

Fiona snorts after a second, and then steps sideways abruptly, to avoid knocking into a woman who clearly has no intention of stopping. Eve glances back over her shoulder, and thinks about saying something, but the woman is too far off into the night now.

“Rude” Fiona mutters, and then reaches her hands up to her hair, and starts tying it up into a pony. “Well, you know best, but… feels to me like if you are just waiting for her to come back… doesn’t that mean that you are trapped? Thinking about her all the time.”

Eve nods, and then rubs her hand over her mouth.

“Yes. I know. I’d like to be able to move on, I just… can’t seem to figure out how.”

Fiona clicks her tongue. 

“You talk about her as if you went through a break up.”

Eve smiles grimly. 

“That’s not… I guess that isn’t a million miles off.”

…..

“Does it help? Talking to me?”

Eve shrugs. Night has fallen properly now. They’re sitting on a bench in an old square. There are fairy lights threaded up the tree trunks.

“A bit. Yes. A lot, actually. You are… like the version of Villanelle I can deal with. The version that doesn’t stab people. It’s a relief. Everyone else seems to… well. I feel like you don’t judge me.”

Fiona doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Eve is haunted by her profile, and since Fiona has tied her hair up the likeness is even more uncanny.

“You liked her.”

Eve bites her lip, because she hasn’t really admitted this to anyone, but-

“Yes. She was… very likeable. That was annoying as well.”

Fiona glances at her, and in the half light, if Eve allows herself, she _is_ Villanelle, but a version that Eve doesn’t feel like she has to try and hate.

“Did you ever kiss her?”

Something tightens in Eve chest.

“No. I didn’t. I came close, but… no.”

Fiona smiles slightly, and then bites her lip. 

“This is a little bit fucked up, isn’t it?”

Eve blushes, hard, suddenly worried that her thoughts were being broadcast, loud and clear.

“Ummm. I don’t know what you-”

“Do you want to kiss me? And pretend that-?”

Eve is choking on her own words.

“I- oh god, no, that’s not why-”

“I don’t mind” Fiona says with a casual shrug. “I’m a bit of a fan of the fucked up, it’s a bad habit of mine.”

“No, but…” But Eve is looking at Fiona’s mouth now. Fiona licks her lips.

“Does my mouth look like hers?”

“Yes” Eve breathes. “Very much.”

Fiona’s lips quirk a little bit, and then she’s leaning into Eve.

“Maybe I kiss differently to her, you should find out.”

“I told you, I didn’t kiss her-” But then Fiona has pressed her mouth to Eve’s, with one firm kiss. Eve’s lips part automatically, but then Fiona has pulled back, although not far enough for Eve to be able to think.

Fiona watches her, from a bare hand breadth away. And, jesus, in this light, with her hair tied back…

“You look just like her” Eve manages, spiralling downwards into madness.

Fiona bites her lip, and seems to pause for a second, as though she’s forgotten her lines. But then she remembers, and asks “Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?”

Eve doesn’t know.

Until she does.

This time, when Eve reaches a hand to Fiona’s face, to pull her mouth back onto Eve’s, it’s Villanelle who moans softly. 

And Eve doesn’t even have to pretend, she doesn’t even have to try.

…..

She manages to get a grip on herself. And thankfully, they are nowhere near either Eve’s apartment or Fiona’s place, otherwise who knows exactly how long Eve would have allowed herself to get lost in the fantasy.

Instead, there is a slightly awkward walk to the nearest tube station, and an acknowledgement on both Eve and Fiona’s part that they should probably place a limit, on exactly how much ‘fucked up’-ness they allow themselves. At least in one night.

“But, just to clarify… I am a fan of the fucked up. And- I like you. I think we should… consider this.”

Eve laughs to herself, slightly embarrassed now they’ve rediscovered lighting in the tube station.

“Well, I mean. I’m not in a very good place right now. I wouldn’t be…”

Fiona shrugs. “Jesus, I’m not suggesting… a thing. Or- whatever. It’s just that… I’m lonely, I figured you’re lonely. And I’m, you know. Up for whatever. If you want me to start speaking with a Russian accent, I could look into that.” Fiona suggests this last idea with a cheeky grin, her eyes twinkling.

Eve snorts, and then says “Um, no, that will not be necessary, in fact you’d probably give me a heart attack. But. I had fun tonight. I like being around you. I would not be… I’d like to do something similar again.”

…..

It’s after midnight when Eve arrives home. She hangs her coat up on the hook, and drops her bag on the sofa. There’s a glass on the drainer that she never got around to putting away, and Eve fills it from the tap, and drinks slow. 

She reviews her evening.

She’s probably not making very smart choices. 

But Eve increasingly finds that she doesn’t care.

Her phone starts ringing. Eve glances once at the clock, frowns slightly, and answers the call.

“Hello?”

“Hello Eve. Did you have a pleasant evening?”

_Jesus._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading
> 
> yotoob.tumblr.com or @yotoob on tumblr. TELL ME YOUR FEELINGS AND THOUGHTS YOU COWARDS.
> 
> (also feel free to find me as yotoob on ko-fi... idk guys I'm experimenting with this notion of my words being worth money. No pressure.)
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	11. Very Boring

Eve can feel the way the blood drains out of each of her fingertips. She grips the edge of the table, and automatically wonders where her nearest weapon is.

Is Villanelle in the house? Did she break in? Is she calling her from upstairs as some kind of joke?

“Hello? Eve? Can you hear me?”

She can’t speak. She croaks instead. Villanelle sighs impatiently.

“You stab me, and now you do not even speak to me? That is insult to injury, in the most literal sense-“

Eve closes her eyes, because although she doesn’t mean to.... god she’s missed the accent. The abrupt way in which Villanelle is so effortlessly rude...

“Why... why are you calling me?”

“Oh.” Villanelle does not speak for a moment, and then says “I wanted to speak to you. I have been watching you, but you are very boring, you go to work, you go back home, work, home, shop for some wine, home, work.... very boring. Nothing to talk about huh? But now. Now there is something to talk about.”

“How do you have my number?”

Villanelle scoffs.

“What, like that is difficult? I have your house key, Eve. I could be sitting on your couch right now.”

Eve turns to look at her couch. It is empty, hauntingly empty, but the cushions... did she leave the cushions like that?

She closes her eyes, and tries to cling on to something normal, but her heart is racing and she wants to scream or cry or shout or beg-

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

Villanelle laughs.

“Umm... because you don’t want me to? You know, this conversation would be a lot simpler if we just cut out all the usual pretend reluctance? You want me to be sitting on your couch. So stop with the... game playing.”

Eve takes a large gulp of air, as though expecting to be pulled under at any moment.

“Where are you?”

“Oh come on...” and Villanelle mutters something in Russian before continuing. “That is the fourth question you have asked me, and you haven’t even answered my first question. Did you have a pleasant evening?”

Eve struggles to remember anything other than the last two minutes of this phone call. She casts back, trying to understand why now, why now....

Oh Jesus.

“Uh, yeah, pretty standard evening. I um, I watched some television, and-“

“Liar” Villanelle says easily, cutting through Eve’s bullshit. “I saw you. You went out of the house. Have you made a friend?”

It’s low, and it isn’t quite threatening, but it is… curious. As though Villanelle is wondering what Eve is going to try and get away with. Eve wonders the same thing.

“Oh, um. Yes? It was a few of us, actually, just a work’s thing.”

Villanelle snorts, and then says “Sure. A work thing. I didn’t see a few of you though. I saw two. You and a girl. What is her name?”

“I… Amanda.”

Villanelle says nothing for a heavy moment, and then says…. “Okay.”

Eve desperately wonders exactly how much Villanelle saw, she can’t have been that close can she? Eve regrets how much she has relaxed, how she just assumed that Villanelle had stopped paying attention to her, how Eve just waltzed around the city with Fiona without even thinking-

“It was just a… a nothing. Amanda has been-” and Eve stretches for a lie that’ll make sense. “She needed someone to talk to, about, you know. Relationship stuff.”

Eve winces the second it is out of her mouth, because why in the world would anyone ask Eve for relationship advice?

“Relationship advice” Villanelle says flatly, as though she doesn’t believe a word. Eve powers through.

“Uh. Yeah. Yes.”

Villanelle is quiet on the other end of the line. Eve-

God, she feels so alive that it makes her sick.

Villanelle laughs abruptly, and then says “Did you give her good advice?”

Eve shrugs, and she finds herself making a face, as though Villanelle is here watching her, and really, who knows?

“I mean, I guess? I tried. She um, she just wanted to talk, I think. About her boyfriend.”

Jesus, the invention of a boyfriend actually makes Eve roll her eyes. Villanelle says “I hope you didn’t advise stabbing. Really kills the mood, a stabbing.”

Eve tries to change the subject.

“Why are you working in England?”

“I don’t know” Villanelle says shortly, as if she is already bored of the answer. “I just go where I am told, do what I am told, you know. I prefer Paris. The filth is more elegant, in Paris.”

“I liked Paris” Eve says inanely, desperate to maintain the conversation in a different direction. Villanelle says nothing.

Abruptly, Eve remembers that she is supposed to be trying to figure out a way to stop Villanelle from killing people, not trying to reminisce.

“Um” she says. 

Villanelle echoes her sarcastically. “Umm….? Is that it? Over a year, no chat chit, and um is what you have got?”

“No, I-”

“When you were kissing Amanda, was that part of the relationship advice? You should kiss your boyfriend like _this_?”

Eve turns cold. Villanelle is probably grinning. Eve can see the sharpness of her teeth all over again.

“She looks like me, doesn’t she? This Amanda? Why are you kissing someone who looks like me, Eve?”

Shit. _Shit._ Shit shit shit shit shitshitshit shit.

“Or had you not noticed the resemblance? Are you going to try and pretend to be stupid now?”

Shit.

“You miss me so much, that you kiss this Amanda? Did you have your eyes open or closed when you kiss her? I could not see, I was not close enough to tell.”

“It’s not-”

“Oh, Eve. You have not fully thought this through, have you?”

“No, it’s-”

“Goodbye Eve. I speak to you soon. Especially now you have decided to be interesting again.”

The dial tone is abrupt, and lethal.

…..

 

The next morning, Carolyn looks at Eve over her glasses.

“I beg your pardon?”

Eve gestures at the chair behind her, but then doesn’t ask for permission, just sits in it. She doesn’t feel like she has the strength to keep standing.

“Villanelle called me last night.”

Carolyn’s head tilts slightly to the right in an impatient gesture, as though she’s trying to flick away a fly.

“She did?”

Eve sighs, and puts her head in her hands.

“She did.”

Carolyn taps one of her fingers to her chin, looking thoughtful.

“Why…. why would she do that?”

“She said she’s been watching me for some time.” Eve doesn’t really know how to pitch her tone to avoid any sense of reprimand sneaking into her voice, and Carolyn’s eyebrows flicker in response.

“Well. This puts a different spin on things, I suppose. Did she threaten you, in any way?”

Eve struggles to remember the details, all she can really remember is the shock, the all embracing horror of knowing she’d relaxed too far, assumed too much confidence. She hesitates, unsure how to begin explaining.

“Uh… not really. She said she had my house key, but it wasn’t a threat, more just… like she wanted me to be impressed.”

Carolyn sighs, and then takes off her glasses, folding them neatly and placing them on her desk.

“Eve. It was already due to be a busy morning, and now you are telling me that Villanelle has made contact with you. So I’m afraid I haven’t got the time to carefully question you in order to slowly reveal the full extent of the situation. Please, if you wouldn’t mind, tell me everything that I need to know. Succinctly, if you can.”

Eve coughs once, but then resigns herself to the humiliation.

“I went out for a drink with Fiona last night. It became... well, we were out for a while. And Villanelle must have been watching us. me. And then she called me, and you know. Pointed out the similarity between herself and Fiona. She seemed... very interested in that.”

Carolyn blinks at her, and then latches on to what is surely the least important part.

“Why on _earth_ did you go out for a drink with Fiona? I thought I had made it clear that giving each other space-“

“We- we got chatting in the canteen. I didn’t think; well. Villanelle has been flying so low under the radar, I didn’t think she was still interested in me.”

Carolyn sighs, and picks up the phone.

“Andrew, could you please let my ten o’clock know that it is more likely to be eleven o’clock, but they are welcome to start without me.”

“I’m sorry. I should... what should I do?”

“Nothing, if you can possibly manage it.” Carolyn says shortly. And then she seems to gather herself, and looks at Eve. “I’ll have an action plan for you by the end of the day. And you will be safe enough in this building.”

“Okay. Okay.”

“Do me a favour, would you? Please tell Fiona that I would like to speak to her, immediately. You will almost definitely find her near a photocopier. I think I will probably have to bring her a bit more up to speed on this. Thank you Eve, you may go.”

......

She does find Fiona near a photocopier. It’s in a side room just off the main staff entrance, a little way away from Fiona’s work station.

“Hey…” and then because she can’t help herself “You know that there are other photocopiers nearer your office?”

Fiona glances at her, and then looks back at the photocopier.

“Oh, um, I know, it’s just… this one is more private? I feel embarrassed at how long it takes me to figure out how to do stuff… do you know how transfer this to A3 size and rotate the image? There must be a way that doesn’t involve this much emotional trauma.”

Eve feels the smile tug at the corners of her mouth. “Ahhh, no, sorry.”

Fiona sighs, flips off the photocopier, and then smiles gently at her.

“Nice to see you”

“Yes” says Eve, gulping hurriedly, because it is nice to see Fiona, and even nicer to see that she is still alive. “Ahh, sorry to interrupt your day like this, but something happened, at the end of last night. And so Carolyn needs to speak to you”

Fiona’s eyebrows bounce up into the air once, and then she leans a little closer.

“I liked all the things that happened at the end of last night” she whispers “But did you really need to involve Carolyn?”

“Ah, no. Um. Not like that. Carolyn doesn’t have… those details. But-” suddenly the paranoia overwhelms Eve. “You know what, I shouldn’t even be talking to you. Just- go see Carolyn, right now.”

Fiona’s face flickers for a second, and then she steps away, frowning.

“Okay, fine. You don’t need to be like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading
> 
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> 
> SPONSORED BY THE PARISIAN TOURIST BOARD, NOT THAT THOSE ELEGANT SWINES NEED ANY HELP


	12. Ongoing Car Crash

When Eve returns to the office, Elena and Kenny are both staring at her. Eve sighs, and dumps her bag on her desk.

“Oh jesus, what?”

Kenny clears his throat. “We just received an email telling us we’d been pulled from the Villanelle case. Bit abrupt, that? And, well, I had a boring evening, and Elena had a boring evening, but Elena’s just told me that you were not planning to have a boring evening, so we’re just sitting here, waiting to find out how your personal life is going to affect our careers.”

“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic, your mother will make sure your career is fine.” Eve says, automatically, before realising that this is probably the wrong thing to say.

Elena says “Cool”, flatly, before continuing “And my career Eve?”

Eve holds up her hands. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise… that this would happen. After I arrived home last night, Villanelle called me. And… I mean, I _had_ to tell Carolyn, I couldn’t just- keep it a secret.”

Elena looks at her as if she has gone crazy.

“No, yeah, obviously Eve. _Obviously_ you tell people when a psychopath murderer calls you up. But she wouldn’t have even called you if you hadn’t gone out for drinks with her fucking twin, and that’s what we’re pissed off about.”

Eve shrugs, and then finds herself saying “She doesn’t even look that much like her…”

Kenny and Elena both laugh shortly, and then Kenny says “Okay, we’re into, like, the really weird now. She doesn’t even look that much like her? Are you-”

Eve rolls her eyes “Yes, okay, I’ve got it. Not a great plan to do drinks with the psychopath twin.”

And god help her, Eve’s trying not to smile. Because… the fact that Villanelle is still paying attention to Eve? The fact that Fiona has got Villanelle rattled?

The printer whirrs into life, and that helps Eve concentrate on something other than making a Russian dickhead feel uncomfortable. Kenny reaches for the printed sheet, and hands it to Elena. Elena gestures slightly at it, and then explains to Eve. 

“I’m back on witness protection. Hopefully I don’t end up having to help Fiona out.”

Kenny adds “Hopefully she doesn’t end up dead”, and that sobers Eve up no end.

…..

She does like Fiona, but this is not a time or a place to pursue a short term fling, no matter how similar her eyes are to Villanelle’s.

Eve types up a quick email:

_Hi, last night was fun, but we need to stop immediately otherwise someone is going to die._

She deletes it instantly, because that isn't a helpful thought and Fiona probably deserves a better explanation. Besides, Eve knows that there is an automated system that scans the office emails and flag up certain phrases. ‘Going to die’ would probably trigger a question or two.

 _I need to speak to you. Privately, but we can’t leave the building._  
……

They end up at the top of a little used stairwell, late in the afternoon.

“Can I just say, I know I’m supposed to be like… freaking out. But this is kind of cool.”

Eve stares at Fiona, askance, and Fiona coughs awkwardly.

“Sorry. Was that the wrong thing to say?”

“Umm, yes? Villanelle saw us, and made contact with me for the first time in over a year, and casually announces that she has my house key, but… this is kind of cool?”

Fiona shrugs, and then leans over the bannister, apparently looking to see how far the drop is.

“No but, she can’t actually be interested in me, she is… you know. A big deal. I’m a nobody. Plus, she can’t actually think that I’m worth wasting any time over.”

Eve pulls her hair down, and then reties it.

“You don’t understand. She doesn’t operate along the normal lines of human engagement. And, she’s seen you with me. She’s seen you” and here Eve drops her voice, taking a step forward “ _kissing me_. She’s not going to just… leave it at that. She’ll do _something_ , I know it.”

Fiona stares at her, and then blinks, and looks away.

“You’re enjoying this. A little bit. That’s… that’s a bit fucked up, as well.”

Eve waves this comment away, because it’s not like she can pretend it is _news_ that she’s fucked up over Villanelle.

“No shit. Anyway, what did Carolyn say?”

“Oh”, and here Fiona sighs. “That I should stay away from you. That I had come to the interests of an international assassin and that I should reflect carefully on what I was doing and how I manage my personal affairs in the future. That I should stay the fuck away from you, basically.”

“Yes” says Eve firmly. “Agreed. We can’t - I mean, you are lovely, and I very much enjoyed last night and your… your company, but we can’t meet out of work any more, that’s just asking for trouble.”

“But we can meet in work?” Fiona says, and it’s with a curious little grin. Eve stares at her.

“Well, no, that wouldn’t be a great move either-”

Fiona steps into her, and then brushes her fingers down Eve’s cheek.

“Did you ever consider that this might all be in your head?”

Eve blinks at her, wide-eyed.

“Um, _no_ , there are bodies everywhere Villanelle goes, this isn’t just-”

“It’s alright” Fiona says, just before she kisses Eve. “I’ve told you, I’m a fan of the fucked up.”

…..

When Eve returns to her desk (Jesus, jesus, she should have checked her mouth, why didn’t she go to the bathroom first?), Kenny is still working at his monitor.

“Okay?” Eve asks strangely, struggling with vowels.

Kenny shrugs, and looks coolly at her.

“I guess. Not dead, anyway. Elena has gone home already.”

Eve nods, and then picks up a packet on her desk.

“What’s this?”

“Oh, some admin guy came around. Apparently the locks on your house have been changed. That’s the new key. I signed for it, because I didn’t know how long you would be. Hope you don’t mind.”

“No, that’s…” Eve nods, and then opens the packet, and inspects the shiny new key. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Eve also has an email from Carolyn, stating that as there is no immediate threat to her life, she’ll have a patrol car that’ll stay within five minutes of her house, but nothing more extensive than that. Go home, is the main advice. Be boring. Don’t do anything foolish.

Eve remembers the way that Fiona’s mouth had grazed over her neck, and Eve had allowed herself to be kissed, she had wanted to be kissed. And she had kissed back, smoothed her palms down the familiar face and kissed Fiona. Because that was easy, easier than trying to process this ongoing car crash.

 _Don’t do anything foolish_ she thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading
> 
> yotoob.tumblr.com, or @yotoob on twitter. OR-
> 
> SPONSORED BY REAL LIFE REQUIREMENTS MEAN I CAN'T DEDICATE AS MUCH TIME TO WRITING AT THE MOMENT SORRY


	13. Flowers

And then….

And then nothing happens.

Villanelle doesn't contact her.

She goes to work, she comes home. Work, home, work, home, shop to buy wine, home, work.

And there’s nothing from Villanelle. Nothing.

Eve doesn’t know what she was expecting; a bouquet of flowers on her doorstep in the best case scenario, and god. A corpse draped across her doorstep in the worst case.

Villanelle is a shadow behind her lamp, and the knife at the back of her cutlery drawer, and the pause before her electric shower kicks in, and the flicker of her tv when she changes the channel, and the blue lights of the police but never the siren, and sensation of falling as she jerks herself awake at night...

She can’t remember what Villanelle looks like. Fiona has blurred into her completely, the cover replacing the original.

Maybe it’ll be Fiona’s corpse she finds on her doorstep. That’s the worst case scenario, that’s the situation that has Eve jerking herself awake at night, horror clutching at her. ‘Sorry Baby’ painted across her face in lipstick.

The only thing, the _only_ thing that Eve can cling to, is the sense that killing Fiona would just be too predictable for Villanelle’s response. 

Because Villanelle likes to surprise her.

…..

Of course, when Eve means nothing happens, she doesn’t exactly mean _nothing_. Just nothing from Villanelle.

No new murders, no suspicious disappearances. Eve doesn’t think there are, anyway. The case is now a series of closed doors to her, and Carolyn is no longer in the mood indulge Eve’s obsession with Villanelle.

Oh the third day of nothing, Carolyn had regretfully ushered Eve out of her office.

“This is my fault” she says “I should have never allowed you back in on this, you are a victim of Villanelle for goodness sake, it is simply bad management to expect you to be involved in the investigation. I apologise. We will keep you informed if there are any developments that you need to be aware of in order to maintain your safety.”

And that seemed to be that.

So Eve was suddenly back to trying to track Villanelle in her spare time, like some kind of hobbyist. Some people collect stamps, some people keep bonsai trees, Eve has-

Fiona sticks her head around the door.

“Hiya. You okay? I was just wondering if you wanted to go and get lunch together?”

“Oh, um. That’s… maybe another day? I’m swamped, here” Eve gestures at her screen, as though the emails are literally spilling out onto her desk.

Fiona nods, and then glances around the empty office.

“Where are Kenny and Elena?”

“You know?” And Eve takes a sip of her drink, trying to demonstrate a relaxed attitude. “I’m not entirely sure.” A thought strikes her. “Oh, but uh, it’s probably a good thing that they’re not here, they have um, views on whether it has been a good idea for me to become… friendly, with you.”

Fiona waves away this paragraph of awkward easily.

“Yeah, I know, I wouldn’t have asked if they’d been in here. Okay, maybe tomorrow then?”

“Maybe” Eve says, feeling the futility settling low in the pit of her stomach.

…..

Fiona is…. well, there’s a great deal about her that Eve does like (mainly her face, or the fact that if she doesn’t talk then Eve can imagine, imagine), but one of the things that Eve grows increasingly irritated about is that Fiona refuses to take the situation seriously.

After a week passes, Eve has started eating in her office, bringing in packed lunches and tubs of tupperware. Just to prevent Fiona from sitting down opposite her, with no consideration of the wider picture _whatsoever_.

She’s still clumsy, and awkward, but Fiona is also… just very into Eve, in a way that Eve can’t even begin to understand.

And now that Villanelle is back in the picture… Eve finds herself increasingly dissatisfied with the version of Villanelle that Fiona is offering.

“Okay, I was thinking… we could go out. But- I could wear a disguise.”

Eve snorts despite herself, and then glances behind herself down the corridor, anxious at who might be listening. Fiona keeps pace with her, and her arms are full of documents and files. She holds a file up underneath her chin, as she sifts through the papers underneath.

“That’s not a very good idea, please tell me you are joking.”

Fiona sneaks a grin at her.

“Yeah, I am. _But_ I really think that everyone is overreacting to this a little bit, including you. This Villanelle can’t actually be that interested in me, I am not worth the bother.”

Eve’s automatic reaction is to feel offended.

“No, it’s not you she is interested in, but she has this…. fixation on me. She’ll be watching me, and trying to figure out how to best-” Eve breaks off, unable to really wrap words around it. She sighs. “How to best be a dick to me, simply put.”

Fiona says nothing for a moment, and then clears her throat.

“Whatever. I still think that you are making this into a big deal over… what, one phone call? She’s probably busy. She’s probably not even in the UK.”

Eve shrugs, telling herself that she can’t carry on claiming to know that Villanelle is watching her just because she _feels_ that that is the case.

“Okay, well… even if this is all true, and I am overreacting… surely you can have more fun with some who isn’t quite as fucked up as I am? This is - I mean, jesus, you can do a lot better than me, and that’s not even including the possible threat of death or stabbing or whatever other horrors-”

Fiona sighs. “I’ve told you. I like fucked up. And you… are a lot of fucked up all at once.”

It isn’t a compliment. Eve side eyes Fiona.

“Okay, well you are increasingly weird to me too, if that is any-”

“Whatever. I’ve got to go.”

…..

Increasingly weird. That’s a good way of putting it.

Eve isn’t completely insane. At least, she doesn’t think she is. Not yet, anyway.

So she deflects Fiona, and tries to give her no encouragement. Because as pleasant as the two kisses were, it is no consolidation for the never ending parade of mind fuckery that Eve now has to deal with. 

Worse, there isn’t anyone to blame. She can blame Villanelle, but that’s a little like shouting at the sky, hoping the sun will pay attention. THere’s no satisfaction in blaming Villanelle.

And it isn’t Fiona’s fault that she has Villanelle’s face, and is a little bit too weird to understand why trying to pursue something with Eve is the worst of all terrible ideas.

Nope, this one is solely Eve’s fault. Complacency, and weakness, and…. and delusion have led to this- well. She’d call it a comedy of errors, but she’s not finding any of it funny.

All she can do now is hope that Villanelle is just going to melt away into nothingness again.

…..

It’s three weeks, altogether.

Three weeks of politely avoiding Fiona, of keeping her head down, of going to work, going home, home, work, home, work, shop for wine, home, work….

She is being as boring as she can possibly manage. There is nothing for Villanelle to react to, _nothing_. She is doing her bit. Carolyn must be pleased with her.

But after three weeks, as she completes the ‘going home’ aspect of her life… Eve is given a bunch of flowers by a stranger, as she exits her station stop.

“Oh! Um, what-”

“They’re not from me” the young man says hastily, and he’s really a boy, probably still in school. “A lady over there gave me fifty quid if I gave them to you.”

“Wait, what?”

The boy gestures briefly behind his head, and then drops his skateboard onto the slick pavement. 

“No, don’t go-”

“Bye” he calls, already leaving. “Enjoy your flowers!”

Flustered, and panicked, Eve scans her surroundings. 

There are too many people, all moving past her with quick, curious glances at the flowers. It’s raining heavily, and the haze of it shortens her sight and numbs her senses until Villanelle could be looking at her from ten metres away and Eve would have no idea.

She could be standing right behind Eve, and she would have no idea. 

She could be breathing down her neck, and Eve-

Eve looks at the flowers. Roses.

There’s a card. She drags it out, catching herself on a thorn as she does so, and oh the symbolism, it hangs heavy around her neck.

_You have become boring again. Maybe I should kill my twin? That should make you do something._

Eve throws the bouquet down onto the pavement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading
> 
> yotoob.tumblr.com, @yotoob on twitter, yotoob everywhere. Cat in real life.
> 
> SPONSORED BY HIGHLY UNUSUAL SUNDAY POSTING


	14. Fine Art

The next day, Carolyn calls an emergency meeting.

Eve sits outside the emergency meeting, fuming. She balls her fists on her knees, and shifts in her seat, looking both ways down the corridor nervously.

Villanelle wouldn’t have killed Fiona yet. Villanelle would leave her to panic about the threat for as long as possible before killing Fiona, she would… god, Eve doesn’t even know. Can she really sit here and say that everything is probably fine?

Eve feels like she has almost lost touch with Villanelle, in a strange way. Immediately after Paris, Eve knew everything about Villanelle. She _understood_ her. Eve had laid on her bed, and looked into her eyes for three seconds, and suddenly… she understood. She _sympathised_. It all fell into place, and in that moment Villanelle was the rational one, and she was going to share her understanding of the world with Eve, and everyone else would be the psychopath….

And then Eve had lost it all, in the slow drip of details from her memory, until she doesn’t know if she would even recognise Villanelle if she was staring her in the face. 

(Ridiculous, of course. Of course she would recognise her.)

Fiona comes around the corner. Eve sighs, and looks away from her, impossibly guilty.

“What’s all this about then?” Fiona asks. Her body language is shut off, and Eve feels a small wave of relief (and an even smaller pang of regret) that Fiona has finally accepted Eve’s reluctance to pursue anything further with her.

It’s for the best.

“What did Carolyn say to you?”

“That I should come here to receive a briefing about developments. She’s not really a details sort of woman, I’ve realised.”

Eve grunts in agreement.

“No, she’s got vagueness down to a fine art. She takes details from you, but doesn’t really give them back.” 

Fiona sits back in her chair.

“So what is this about then?” she asks after a moment. Eve leans forward, hiding her face in her hands for a moment, and then turns to peer back towards Fiona.

“Villanelle gave me a bunch of flowers yesterday.”

Fiona snorts, and then shakes her head coldly. 

“Oh? Well, um, congratulations, I hope the two of you are very happy together…” And there is something about the sarcastic delivery that riles at Eve, which is probably why she makes no attempt to soften her delivery of her other bit of news.

“And she threatened to kill you.”

Fiona’s face freezes, and then drops.

“No she didn’t.”

“Yes, she did.”

A wave of what looks like nausea passes over Fiona’s expression, and then she looks down at her hands, flexing her fingers nervously.

“Why?” she whispers. “I haven’t done anything to her?”

Eve watched the moles on her cheekbone.

“You look like her, and you exist. And... oh god I should never have kissed you, this is all designed to fuck with me-“

“Fuck with you? I’m the one getting killed but this is designed to fuck with you?”

“Well, yes, if I hadn’t started talking to you Villanelle would never have paid any attention to you-“

Carolyn’s door opens abruptly at that point, and a handful of senior members of staff file out, including…

“Holy shit” Eve mutters, and then looks down at her knees, as the Home Secretary, Richard Hargreaves, bids Carolyn farewell. 

God, she feels stupid, this is probably going to be the moment in which she gets fired.

Carolyn stands in front of them. Eve can tell that she is weighing up what to say.

“So, as you can probably tell, this is a bit of a busy time. Busy on a wider scale than just… whatever is going on in your personal life at the moment Eve. And I really was very much hoping that this particular patch of peculiar was going stay quiet for the time being… Fiona, why are you here now? I didn’t ask to see you for another twenty minutes.”

Fiona looks up at Carolyn, suddenly extremely nervous and wide eyed.

“Because I asked Andrew when to come and he said now? But… I mean, Eve has just told me that this Villanelle is going to kill me, so- I’d quite like to speak to you now. With her.” And here Fiona gestures at Eve.

Carolyn doesn’t react, but the lack of reaction is a reaction in itself.

“Well, I’m really not sure-”

“She should hear this” Eve interrupts. “She has a right to know what is going on, it could keep her safe.”

Carolyn glares at Eve, and briefly looks as though she is about to say something extremely unprofessional, but then she stands to one side, and motions that they both step inside.

…..

 

“So, let me just recap.” Carolyn takes a sip from her glass of water, and then puts it down on the coaster next to her.

“You believe that Fiona’s life is in danger. Because you believe that Villanelle gave you a bunch of flowers.”

Eve rubs her hand over her face.

“ _Yes_ , and in the flowers was a note, and the note said that she was planning to kill Fiona.”

Carolyn sighs, and stares at Fiona as though she has suddenly become the most problematic office employee of all time. And then she looks back at Eve.

“But you do not have any evidence?”

“What? No, I told you… I threw the flowers on the floor, and then I was running home, but then I realised that I should have kept the note as evidence. But by the time I’d returned to the spot, the flowers were gone.”

“So there is no evidence.”

Eve gapes at her. “Well, no, but, check the CCTV coverage of the station exit, they must have caught _something_.”

“And you have no evidence of Villanelle’s phone call to you from three weeks ago?”

Eve spreads her arms wide “How am I supposed to have evidence of that call? You can check my phone records-”

“We did” Carolyn says shortly. “There is a phone conversation after midnight. It appears to be from a burner phone. However that isn’t…. there is nothing to build a case here Eve.”

“We don’t need to _build a case,_ we just need to keep Fiona safe until we can find Villanelle.”

Carolyn turns to look at Fiona.

“Fiona. Have you… any reason to believe that your life is in danger?”

Fiona gestures at Eve. “Well, she seems pretty certain. Is that a good enough reason?” Eve nods, and then says “We need to put measures in place for her. A well staffed safe house, a police unit, move her out of the city, witness protection, all of that.”

Carolyn seems to swallow a sigh, and then turns back to Eve. “It might be better if the next part of the interview is conducted in private.”

Eve shakes her head. 

“Fiona should stay. We should be completely transparent about this.”

After a second’s careful pause, Carolyn then says “Very well. Can we consider for a moment that this might all be in your head?”

Eve blinks. “What?” Carolyn spreads her hands apologetically. “I’m sorry Eve, but your obsession with Villanelle is well known. Suddenly Fiona comes to work here, and I apologise Fiona, this really isn’t your fault, but it seems to me Eve, as though ever since Fiona started-”

“What?” Eve gasps. “What, I’ve gone mad?”

“No one is saying that” Carolyn says firmly. “But this has put you under more stress than I think anyone really accounted for, and the fact that Villanelle is probably out there, active, maybe has caused some… unforeseen leaps of your sub-conscious imagination.”

Eve gazes at her.

She’s tempted to defend her sanity to the very death, but…. it’s Eve against Carolyn, her word against… the probabilities.

Balance the probabilities.

“Doesn’t matter” Eve says, inspiration finally striking. “Doesn’t matter. I’m saying that a threat has been made against a member of security service staff, and that always triggers some kind of provision to protect the at risk individual. And it has been logged, and I’ve told Kenny, and Elena, and registered the purpose of this meeting with Andrew. So it doesn’t matter if you think I’m wrong, because you can’t risk me being right. And I don’t think Fiona is going to be content with you just declaring that all of this is just in my head.”

“No” Fiona almost whispers, and Eve turns to look at her. And god, she looks young. Is this how young Villanelle looks as well?

“No” Fiona says again “I want… whatever Eve was talking about; safe house, all of that.”

Carolyn appears to be fighting against her own instinct to roll her eyes. “Very well” she says, through gritted teeth. “I will look into it.”

And maybe Eve has gone mad. 

But maybe that was Villanelle’s plan all along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> yotoob.tumblr.com, or @yotoob on twitter.
> 
> SPONSORED BY SHOUT OUT TO MYSELF FOR DAILY UPDATES, I AM GREAT, MARVEL AT MY TYPEY TYPE TYPE MAKE WITH THE LETTERS WOW


	15. Unyielding

Eve is sent home for the rest of the day.

It’s understandable, she allows, giving Carolyn the benefit of the doubt. It’s probably procedure. 

If an employee does show signs of behaving irrationally, they should be sent home. Particularly if they work in a place which has access to high security intelligence.

It doesn’t stop Eve from feeling utterly enraged. Because this isn’t _her_ fault.

(Eve’s treacherous mind plays back every past moment in which Eve chose to push herself towards Villanelle, chose to chase after her, chose to enter her apartment, chose to tell her that she couldn’t stop thinking about her…)

She can just see Villanelle shrugging, and grinning, and says “Well what did you expect? You flirted with me first.”

She didn’t, she didn’t, she didn’t-

…..

So she goes home. 

And then, as the sun starts to disappear from the sky, she decides to take a bath. 

Eve lights several candles, because that’s the sort of things that she thinks is supposed to calm people down. Her mind rifles through several images of bubble covered women, luxuriating in baths surrounded by candles, softly lit as their worries melt away.

If she could just not think about Villanelle for ten minutes straight, maybe she could reset her brain somehow? Turn it off and on again.

None of this happens. And Eve’s bath isn’t really big enough to luxuriate, and she accidentally drops the box of matches in the bath water.

She becomes bored after fifteen minutes, and gives up the whole thing as a bad job.

Niko used to always complain when Eve wandered around the house in a towel, dripping water everywhere. She does it now, relishing the change for a odd moment. The carpet underneath her feet darkens with her damp footprints.

If Villanelle had known where Eve lives for all this time…. it’s not like Eve _wants_ Villanelle to come visit. But… why hasn’t she? 

Eve hates mysteries. She hates that Villanelle leaves her with all these unanswered questions, a riddle that she cannot solve. It is frustrating beyond measure.

Eve stabbed Villanelle. She _stabbed_ , Eve can still remember the warmth of Villanelle’s blood all over her hands. And then she spends a year assuming that Villanelle must be dead, because there is simply no way that Villanelle just doesn’t react to that. 

She had forgotten to put the white wine in the fridge, and the tepid warmth of it is sour on her tongue. Eve drinks it anyway.

Apparently stabbing Villanelle is okay, but heaven forbid Eve is seen in public with someone who looks like Villanelle.

Eve wonders if Villanelle is jealous. But she quickly dismisses that thought, and swaps in the idea that Villanelle is simply always on the look out for the best opportunity to be the biggest dickhead that she can be. 

Fucking with Eve’s head as a recreational hobby is exactly what Villanelle would do, and Eve _hates her_ for it.

Her phone starts ringing as Eve is getting dressed, and Eve curses as she struggles into her top.

“Hello?”

“Eve?”

It’s Fiona. Eve sits down on the bed, repressing a sudden clutch of panic.

“Hey - is everything okay?”

“I… I don’t know. I’m not dead yet, so… so far so good.” Fiona laughs shortly, and then falls quiet.

“You… how are you doing?”

“I’m… I mean. They’ve put me in this flat, and apparently there’s a police officer who is patrolling the street, so… do you think I’m safe?”

Eve feels the slow pooling of fear in her stomach. 

“Uh… I don’t- I mean, you are safer there than you are at home. Do you know where about you are?”

“Somewhere in Hackney - it wasn’t a long trip, nothing like… I thought I’d be out in the countryside somewhere, not… I mean” and here Fiona laughs, as though the whole situation is slightly embarrassing. “I can see a Subway out of the window.”

Eve can picture Villanelle eating a sandwich, picking out the onions and flicking them away. She’ll be standing outside Subway, staring up at Fiona’s window, reflecting on whether to kill Fiona now or later.

And Eve can almost see the tilt of her head as she stares curiously upwards. And the threat made against Fiona was _real_ , she didn’t imagine it. She still has the scratch from the rose thorns. 

Frank had been in a safe house. A good safe house, with a guard _inside_ and a heavy police presence at both ends of the street. And that hadn’t stopped Villanelle.

Eve doesn’t know how she is supposed to just sit here. Would Villanelle kill Fiona tonight? She doesn’t know, but _god_ , she doesn’t want another death that is her fault. Eve is nowhere near getting over Bill. She is still buried neck deep in guilt.

Briefly, ridiculously, Eve thinks of a cat, bringing home dead mice and birds to lay at her feet, never fully understanding why Eve wouldn’t want all these corpses cluttering up her porch.

“Do you want me to call Carolyn? I could try to-”

Fiona sighs. 

“Oh, I don’t know if that would do any good…. Carolyn doesn’t seem… very convinced that I’m in any danger.”

“Bullshit” Eve mutters. “Bullshit.”

Fiona is quiet for a moment, and then says “Okay, um, I’d prefer it if you also told me that I wasn’t in any danger. Because- oh god I don’t know how to say this- either you’re telling the truth, in which case I’m about to die, or you’re…”

Fiona trails off awkwardly. And jesus, Eve doesn’t even know any more. Maybe she has lost the plot? Maybe Villanelle has riddled through her brain like woodworm, until Eve can’t do anything other than see her in every corner.

But what can she do? Tell Fiona she was hallucinating? Or tell her that… yes, maybe she is about to die.

“Jesus… look, do you have- if you tell me the address I’ll come and keep you company.”

There is a silence on the phone, and then Fiona says “Uh. Are you allowed to do that?”

“Probably not. But - fuck, if I’m there then maybe if Villanelle does turn up I can convince her to…”

“To not kill me?”

It’s a stupid plan. But it is the best she’s got. 

“Yes. I guess. I’ll… distract her.” 

The silence, already heavy, manages to deepen. Eve grips the edge of her bed, just to avoid spiralling into a shame canyon.

“You’ll… distract her? What is she, a child?” And Fiona sounds irritated, and sure, Eve would be too, if the scenario was reversed.

…..

She takes a cab to the address that Fiona reluctantly provides her with. 

Eve is doing this because she doesn’t want Fiona to die. Obviously. Clearly. Eve does not want responsible for anyone else’s death.

But…

If Villanelle arrived to kill Fiona… and if Eve was there…well. 

That would mean that Eve would get to see Villanelle again.

Eve grips the door handle hard, trying to transmit some of her tension into the unyielding moulded plastic.

…..

She has to be rude to the police officer.

Eve doesn't like doing it, but by god if she needs to be an abrupt MI5 agent who considers all police officers beneath her, she can certainly manage it.

The officer inspects her work pass carefully, whilst Eve worries that Carolyn might have somehow sent a warning. _Do not let this woman come near either. It’s for her own good_.

However, Eve is allowed to knock on the door. Clearly Carolyn didn’t think that Eve would be foolish enough to come here.

Eve used to surprise Carolyn by being smarter than she expected. Now she outwits her by being more stupid than Carolyn can possibly give her credit for.

The door opens.

…..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Kudos and comments are nice :)
> 
> yotoob.tumblr.com, or @yotoob on twitter. Go there if you want to buy me a drink?
> 
> SPONSORED BY DAILY UPDATES YOU WANT? DAILY UPDATES YOU GOT


	16. Barcelona

“Hey”

Fiona looks at her for a moment, and then steps aside with a sigh, gesturing that Eve should head in.

“Bit weird, opening the door, half expecting to die. But then I decided that she probably wouldn’t knock.”

“Oh, she would. She’s very polite.”

Fiona closes the door, fumbling to put the chain back on and turn the key in the lock.

“Well, that’s good to know. Anyway, I thought that, if she does come to kill me, I’d bargain with her. I could quit my job, and maybe become her body double. Give her alibis, that sort of thing. You want a coffee? They leave you a jar of coffee and some tea bags, can you believe it? Like the worst holiday home ever.”

Eve finds the kitchen, and resists the urge to check the cupboards, check the shadows.

“I um, I brought a bottle of wine over, if you want some of that. Screw cap, I’m afraid.”

“Oh thank fuck, they wouldn’t let me go to the corner store.”

…..

They drink the wine out of chipped china mugs, each standing in their own corner of the kitchen.

“What do you mean, you’ll be her body double?”

Fiona smiles wryly, dragging the bottle top across the counter noisily.

“Oh, I’ve got it all planned out. My retirement plan. If she wants to go brutally murder someone in… I don’t know. Marseille. Then, I could go and be obviously at, like, an opera in Barcelona, or whatever shit she gets up to. And then when she gets arrested, she could say, “no, no, I was at this shouty opera in Spain, look for me on the cctv”. I could be very useful to her. That was going to be my pitch, anyway.”

Eve snorts at the phrase ‘shouty opera’, she doesn’t know why, except that any attempt at humour feels funny in the current situation.

“I understand. Unfortunately she never gets arrested. That’s…. kind of the problem.”

Fiona shrugs with one shoulder. 

“That’s a shame, I had imagined pretty elaborate scenarios in which I could be useful to her, in exchange for my life. You think she’d want to fuck me?”

The abruptness of the question makes Eve choke on the sip of wine that she’d just taken, and she winces against the burn of the alcohol.

“Oh- jesus… I, um. I don’t know. You aren’t her usual type.”

Fiona’s eyes are completely unreadable. 

“What is her type?”

Eve colours.

“Uh. Me. Older than her. Brunette. Big… hair, I think.”

Fiona says nothing, and then takes a sip of her drink. Eve looks down at the floor, and god she desperately wants to change the subject, but she realises that she knows literally nothing else about Fiona other than she looks exactly the same as Villanelle.

“What’s your plan then? If she turns up to kill me, what are you going to say to her?”

Eve sighs, and rubs her palm across her face.

“Well, I’d probably call her a dickhead first.”

Fiona laughs suddenly, and puts her drink down on the counter to top it up from the bottle.

“Great, that’ll definitely diffuse the situation. Perfect.”

…..

The couch is deeply uncomfortable.

The room is dark, apart from the flickering light of the tiny tv screen in the corner. The bulb above them is broken, and although there is a table lamp on the other side of the room, it’s too much effort to do anything other than sit in near darkness, watching some incomprehensible panel show with comedians Eve doesn’t recognise.

“I really shouldn’t be here. If Carolyn finds out…”

“You know she’s going to find out. You came anyway.” Fiona says this shortly, as though she’s running out of patience with Eve’s constant avoidance of reality, and Eve can’t really blame her.

“Yeah, I know. I just… I wanted to know that I’d done everything I could to keep you safe. Because none of this is your fault.”

Fiona turns to look at her for a moment, looking like she is almost challenging Eve for a second, and then knocks back the rest of her wine.

“Do you… really think that she might come and kill me? Do you _really_ think that I’m in danger?”

Eve bites her lip.

“Yes? She doesn’t usually… fuck around with words like that.”

Fiona snorts. “Why do you think you know her so well? You’ve spoken to her… how many times? Two? Three?”

“I just know.”

“Jesus…” Fiona doesn’t finish the rest of her thought, and then just sits there, watching the flickering, tiny television screen in the corner. Eve looks at her.

And looks at her.

“This is fucked up” Fiona says abruptly. Eve nods. 

“I know that.”

Fiona puts her head in her hands.

“Do you want to know what my type is? I’ll tell you. I’m always attracted to fucked up and unavailable. Every single fucking time. No wonder I want to kiss you so much, jesus, this is such a mess…”

Eve gulps. 

“Okay, I get the fucked up, but I’m not ‘unavailable’?”

Fiona makes an incredulous face.

“Seriously? Are you seriously telling me that you don’t spend every second of every day thinking about her?”

 _I think about you all the time._

And the memory is so vivid, she can see the dust motes dancing between Villanelle and herself.

“Fine” Eve whispers. “Fine. Fucked up, and unavailable. That’s me.”

It’s probably the wrong thing to say. And this is probably the wrong kind of almost, but it’ll have to do, as Fiona reaches across to her, and then abruptly climbs onto Eve’s lap.

The kiss is almost exasperated, except it isn’t, and it is _almost_ something else.

…..

Fuck. Fuck. 

Eve shouldn’t, she shouldn’t, but it’s all too easy, to let Fiona sit on her, to kiss her like Eve isn’t a complete mess that she should stay well away from. The darkness is welcome now, because god knows Eve doesn’t want the cold light of day _at all_.

Besides, it’s just… good. To feel wanted. Niko had been… perfunctionary in his affection towards her, for the last few years. 

And then there was Villanelle, who had clouded Eve brain like a drop of ink in water. She’d made her desire for Eve obvious, brazen for the length of a heart attack in Paris.

_I masturbate about you a lot_

Eve runs hot and cold at the thought, and that’s when she slips her hands underneath Fiona’s top. Fiona moans slightly, and bites at Eve’s lips once, before raising herself up and pulling her own top off. She tosses it behind her somewhere, and then pulls Eve’s hands up towards her tits, and…. well. Eve hadn’t been lying when she had told Villanelle that she’d never done anything like this before.

But she… does what she is expected to do, and Fiona’s hands are in her hair, and fuck it if she isn’t just going to pretend that Fiona is Villanelle, she’s can’t seriously be expected to do anything other than that. She’s weak, and she’s fucked up, and god she’s so tired, and-

Fiona’s mouth is warm, and Eve probably doesn’t even have a job any more, and Villanelle can go fuck herself, it just isn’t reasonable for Eve to be this far gone, this untethered from reality, from the rational-

What if Villanelle is watching? What if she’s in this room?

And Eve feels herself simultaneously panic _and_ grow wetter at the thought of Villanelle, sitting in the darkness, watching Eve make out with Fiona. And one of those emotions, the panic or the arousal, transmits to Eve’s hands, because she’s squeezing hard, probably too hard, and Fiona hisses slightly, which just reminds Eve of Villanelle even more, and-

There’s a noise. Sudden. Loud.

_Jesus what the fuck was that?_

The panic wins the race, and Eve somehow manages to heave Fiona away from her, she’s on her feet, throwing herself at the table lamp and flicking it on, expecting to feel the knife at any moment, hear the screams at any moment.

She should have a weapon, she should have a weapon, why the fuck is she so stupid of course she should have a weapon-

Eve blinks at the shadows, expecting each one to contain multiple Villanelles, smirking at her, knife in hand…

Except… except-

There’s no one there. There isn’t a single Villanelle in the room. 

Until Eve looks at Fiona, topless on the couch.

Fiona… rolls her eyes at herself, and then says “fuck”, like she just dropped a wine glass.

Because there, on her stomach, is the scar that Eve gave Villanelle, on a bed in Paris.

“Fuck” Villanelle says, and then grins at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. 
> 
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> 
> yotoob.tumblr.com, or @yotoob on twitter. Check out those places for info on ~other things~ (HOW CRYPTIC)
> 
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	17. Pulse Point

She’s going to scream. 

Eve stands there, her back against a wall, and this is when she should start screaming.

The scream dies stillborn in her throat, and Eve’s hand smooths over the wallpaper behind her, searching for nothing.

Villanelle smirks, and then slouches back in her seat, and stares down at her stomach. She pokes at her scar, and then glances back at Eve.

“Skiing accident?” she says querulously, and is then suddenly blinking innocently at Eve, and her accent switches back to Fiona. “I got impaled on a branch, it hurt like a bitch…”

Eve cannot tell if her heart is beating so quickly that she can no longer feel the rhythm, or if it has stopped beating altogether.

“Fuck you”, she manages. Villanelle looks mock hurt, and then pokes her own scar again.

“You should apologise for this.”

“You… you deserved it.”

Villanelle laughs slightly, and then drops her head as though disappointed.

“Why so rude Eve, why are you never pleased to see me? You prefer me as Fiona? You want me as Fiona?”

“Fuck you” and Eve would give anything to force her voice to stop shaking, just for a moment.

Villanelle stands abruptly, and Eve…suddenly remembers she has her phone in her pocket. She fumbles for it, and then nearly drops it as Villanelle takes quick steps towards her, stopping a mere pace away. She gestures at the phone.

“Who are you going to call? The police?” Villanelle smiles slyly at her. “What would you say?” Her voice becomes mocking, sarcastic. “Help, I am in a safe house but the person who is meant to be dying is also the killer and I was just making out with her but now she’s dropped the accent and you need to come and save me?”

Eve slaps her.

The contact stings her hand, and it must sting Villanelle’s face, but she barely reacts. Just stands there, and grins at her, before slowly jutting her bottom lip out in a mockery of misery.

“You are so unkind.”

A flash of inspiration comes to Eve.

“I could call Carolyn.”

Villanelle shrugs.

“You could.”

Eve glares at her, and then makes to start summoning her contact details. Villanelle takes her wrist, and presses it against the wall behind her in a sudden movement that startles Eve. Villanelle’s thumb digs into Eve’s tendons in a certain way, just long enough for her to lose her grip on her phone. It clatters to the floor.

Villanelle speaks in an off hand tone, as though bored. “You know, when I said that you ‘could’ it was more from the point of saying… ‘but why would you want to do that?’ Besides, you wouldn’t want Carolyn to think you’ve gone completely mad- she might put you in an asylum. A home for the crazy.”

Eve’s free hand makes to slap Villanelle again, but Villanelle is too quick for her, and catches her wrist, pressing this to the wall easily. Villanelle doesn’t even break eye contact.

“You only get one” she murmurs.

And then…. nothing.

Villanelle stares at her, from far too close, close enough that Eve can feel the heat from her body, her warm breath on her skin.

Oh god… she wants. 

“I thought you were dead… and then I thought you were Fiona… and then I thought you were going to kill Fiona…” Eve’s voice is a breathy little whisper, plaintive in her embarrassment. Villanelle nods, looking sympathetic.

“I know- it has been very entertaining for me, I cannot lie.”

“You are nothing but lies.”

Villanelle shrugs.

“Maybe.”

“And…” Eve searches for something, some insult that’ll stick. “And you are a psychopath.”

Villanelle’s eyes are wide, and in this light Eve can see no colour to them at all. Villanelle bites her lip, and then tilts her head to one side slightly.

“Oh Eve… why must we always go through the same conversation over and over- yes, I am a psychopath, no you must never call a psychopath a psychopath, yes I am very upset, and so on. But do you honestly-” and here Villanelle’s grip on her wrists changes slightly, and she’s slowly dragging Eve’s arms up over her head. Eve makes a small noise, and fuck it is so close to a moan that Eve can watch the gratification flicker over Villanelle’s face. She stills for a second, arches her eyebrow at Eve as though she has just caught her out, and then continues with the motion and her sentence.

“Do you honestly think that you aren’t also a psychopath? Honestly?”

Eve can’t breathe. Her arms are above her head, and even though Villanelle is only touching her wrists, Eve feels completely trapped, pinned in place by Villanelle proximity.

Villanelle’s grip is loose, an encouragement to stay in place, rather than a demand. She doesn’t move, just stares at Eve, dropping her head to stare down at their bodies before looking back at her, unreadable.

“Honestly? Because you think about me all the time. You think about what I’m wearing, and what I’m doing, and who I’m doing it with, you think about what friends I have, you think about what I eat before I work, what shampoo I use, what happened in my family” Villanelle leans into her, her voice dropping to a whisper as she closes in on Eve’s ear, sharing a secret that Eve can’t hide from any more.

“you think about my eyes and my mouth and what I feel when I kill someone, and you think about what I have for breakfast, and you just want to know everything…”

Eve can’t breathe. Villanelle leans away from her, and smiles slightly.

“And that, Eve, is a little bit fucked up.”

Eve can see the shine of her teeth, the tugs of her lips, her eyes, and her mouth, and-

She kisses her.

Eve kisses her.

And fuck her, fuck her, fuck her-

Villanelle opens her mouth easily, and Eve knows that this is just letting Villanelle win, this is exactly what she wants, but it is also exactly what Eve wants, and if they are both winning then technically they are both losing too. And that’ll have to do.

Villanelle presses her wrists once to the wall, hard, but then seems to forget about them, and drops one of her hands, curling her fingers into Eve’s hair instead. And Villanelle’s other hand is barely holding Eve against the wall at all, and so when Eve steps into her Villanelle lets her, steps backwards with a noise that sounds so close to a moan that Eve can feel it on the tip of her tongue.

It’s nothing like kissing Fiona. Sure, her mouth is the same shape but kissing Fiona didn’t make Eve feels as though she was turning inside out, like every part of her was pressed against a knife, one sudden movement from death.

Except… except Villanelle is compliant. Eve cannot read the meaning into it at all, all she knows is that Villanelle is still, responsive but not initiating. 

As though she is waiting for Eve to choose how this goes.

“You are a liar” Eve mumbles, kissing at Villanelle’s lips and tugging at her lower lip with teeth. Her hands are at Villanelle’s neck, and it would be so easy to wrap her fingers around her throat and start squeezing, but she doesn’t want to.

She’s waited for over a year, and Eve knows that she wasn’t waiting to choke her. 

“You are a liar, and… and a psychopath, and a fucking dickhead, and-”

Villanelle does moan this time, and then laughs.

“Fuck, keep going, I like it when you talk dirty.”

Eve has backed her up against arm of the couch, and Villanelle fumbles behind her, looking for something to steady herself, the shock of the impact bouncing another moan from her lips.

Eve kisses her again, her fingers going down and searching out the scar, and she digs her fingers into it until Villanelle hisses against her lips in pain. Eve rejoices.

“Fuck you. Fuck you.”

“Keep going, don’t stop, god you kiss me better when you hate me.”

Eve could slap her again, she doesn’t mean to keep kissing her, she doesn’t mean to drop her mouth so it is on Villanelle’s pulse point, she doesn’t mean to suck until Villanelle’s legs twitch compulsively apart.

“You are a liar, nothing about you is real, it’s all just lies and bullshit and-”

Villanelle moans softly, and her head drops forwards slightly, and she’s clinging to Eve for balance now, and Eve feels something in her heart lurch, tip oh so gently to the other side.

“God I missed you, I missed you, I missed you-”

“I was right in front of you - fuck Eve, don’t stop-”

“You are a liar” Eve repeats, with a cloudy mind and lips that want to be otherwise occupied. Her hands are on Villanelle’s breasts, she doesn’t even know when that happened, and she just wants _answers_ , she wants to know _everything…_

Villanelle’s hands drop, and she’s undoing her own trousers, and taking one of Eve’s hands gently, as though permission is something that is Eve’s luxury. As though Eve has any choice at all, as though Eve could ever want anything else.

“It’s not all lies” Villanelle says quietly, as she nudges Eve’s hand between her legs, and Eve doesn’t need any encouragement at all, she searches down, and underneath, and underneath, until she’s met with skin and-

She moans lowly, and glances up to look at Villanelle, to try and find the lie. But Villanelle looks… 

“I do really like you” she whispers, and then moans, high and sharp, when Eve moves her fingers over wet heat.

Fuck.

_Fuck._

And then they’re kissing again.

She doesn’t mean to. But every small movement of Eve’s fingers brings a new noise from Villanelle’s lips, and the closeness, the stillness, the way that Villanelle has just _stopped_ , that she’s right in front of Eve, that Eve knows exactly what she is doing and what she sounds like and what she feels like…?

It’s everything Eve has ever wanted.

After some minutes, Villanelle comes quietly, pitching forward with a shuddering sigh. She wraps her arms around Eve’s neck, and rests her head against Eve’s shoulder.

Eve’s fingers ache, and there’s another ache, a desperate ache that wants, and wants…

She will not kiss her again. She refuses to.

After a long moment, Villanelle turns her head slightly, and presses her mouth to Eve neck.

“You should stay.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Yes you do.”

“No I don’t.”

“Liar” Villanelle whispers, onto her skin.

Eve steps away from her. And then…

And then she leaves.

……

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading - kudos and your thoughts are lovely!
> 
> yotoob.tumblr.com or @yotoob on twitter
> 
> SPONSORED BY MY NEVER ENDING COMMITMENT TO VILLANELLE BEING A BOTTOM - I WILL ACTUALLY FIGHT PEOPLE ON THIS, IT IS THE ONLY VERSION OF VILLANEVE THAT I WILL ACCEPT, IN THIS ESSAY I WILL


	18. The Damn Photocopier

Eve doesn’t sleep.

She doesn’t even lie down. She instead sits up in bed, watching the muted tv screen flicker it’s futile glow in the corner of the room. 

It is inconceivable that Villanelle will not arrive. There is no way, there is _no way_ , that Villanelle would just let Eve walk away like that.

Until, as the greyness of dawn starts creeping around the edge of Eve’s curtains, her entire train of thought jumps tracks, and now she is worrying that Villanelle has done exactly that, that Villanelle is content to have won the game, and now Eve will never hear from her again, ever. 

Because if Villanelle’s aim was to fuck Eve up, then that would certainly be the most effective manner of achieving that. 

Eve groans slightly, and pulls a blanket towards herself, dragging it over her shoulders.

She _wants_ Villanelle to come. She wants Villanelle here, and she wants Villanelle to press her backwards, and she wants Villanelle to kiss her with a greedy mouth and irreverent fingers, as though Eve’s yearning for her is completely understandable, no need to apologise at all.

She _wants_ all of that. 

And that’s why Villanelle won’t come.

…..

And then, bizarrely, she’s travelling back into work.

Eve has some indefinable panic washing around her system. Because even though she knows now, that Fiona was never in danger… that Fiona never even existed… Eve can’t seem to find the off switch for her ‘immediate threat of death’ warning system.

Fiona had been Villanelle all along. And Eve had _known_ , until everyone else had convinced her otherwise. Logic and circumstance and the cold light of day and the realisation that this sort of shit just didn’t happen to people like Eve, that a body double was more likely than Villanelle infiltrating her place of work, just to prove she could…

Eve remembers how Fiona had kissed her on the bench. Kissed her at the top of the stairwell. Kissed her with a laugh hiding just behind her lips, the smirk of victory etched just behind her eyes.

Her palm tingles, and the slap feels like the weakest form of a repost.

She alights at her usual stop, and gets jostled through the usual crowd, and takes her usual walk to the imposing building, goes through the usual security check in a daze, and then…

What exactly is she supposed to do?

Go and find Carolyn? _Oh, by the way, the reason that Fiona isn’t going to be coming back to work is because she never existed, she was Villanelle all along, I have no concrete proof of this but you are just going to have to trust me?_

She’s early, earlier than usual. The building feels bigger, colder, without the regular hum of bodies going about their business. 

Eve goes to her office, and, on impulse, picks up the phone. What was his name again - Andrew?

“Hi Andrew, this is Eve Polastri? Is Carolyn available at any point this morning? It can’t really wait.”

“Oh, uh…. let me take a look-” There’s a small pause, and Eve can hear the click of his mouse. “No, sorry, she’s fully booked this morning - I could put you in for three fifteen this afternoon?”

Eve sighs. But really, what’s the rush? It’s not as though Fiona needs saving any more. And Villanelle will be impossible to catch whether or not Eve gives her a half day’s head start.

“Okay, three fifteen. Out of interest, what would happen if I came up there now and told Carolyn that she had to see me now, and it didn’t matter what other meetings she has?”

“Uh, uh, I mean she is meeting with some pretty high level people this morning…”

Eve rolls her eyes. “Indulge me.”

“Well, if you barged into her office, she’d probably… look at you. Um. And then come and look at me, and I really rather not have to be looked at in the way that Carolyn can look at me.”

“Fine, three fifteen it is.”

“Okay” Andrew says, sounding relieved. “What should I put as the subject?”

“Uh”… Eve pauses, trying to think. “Fiona Lewis’ absence?”

Andrew starts typing, and then stops.

“Fiona Lewis? She isn’t absent, she was just here with me checking Carolyn’s schedule.”

Eve blinks once, and then puts the phone down.

….. 

She doesn’t even need to think about where to find her.

That _fucking_ photocopier.

And even though Eve _knows_ Villanelle will be there, she still can’t stop the snort of derision, the roll of her eyes and the muttered “oh for fuck’s sake” that she utters, when she enters the small space and finds Villanelle, peering at the photocopier instruction booklet like it contains all the answers to the universe.

Villanelle glances at her, and then gestures at the photocopier. When she speaks, it is with Fiona’s voice.

‘I can do double sized, and I can rotate the image, but can I get both of those things to happen at the same time? Fucking thing.”

Eve pauses, she actually doesn’t know what to do with herself, because surely Villanelle isn’t about to try and style it out?

“Villanelle.”

Villanelle blinks at her. 

“Where? Have you seen her?”

Eve glares at her, and Villanelle snorts after a second.

“Oh Eve, please stop looking at me like that, you are making it too tempting for me to keep on doing this stupid accent…. yes, here I am. What do you plan on doing about it?”

Eve just stares at her. Villanelle smiles, and then…poses for her, all cocky bravado, just like in Paris. She shows Eve her teeth.

“No, seriously, what are you going to do about it? Tell Carolyn? Try to stab me? Have me arrested? I am intrigued.”

She should have a weapon, Eve thinks. But what good would that do? 

“Are you going to kill me?”

Villanelle makes a face, dismissive of Eve’s question.

“No? Why would I do that? You are too much fun, I have been enjoying myself.”

“Why are you even here? Just to fuck with me?”

Villanelle shrugs with one shoulder.

“No. That has been recreational.”

“Then why?”

Villanelle gestures at the photocopier. “I am working?”

Eve’s palm tingles.

“Sure, and you got impaled on a branch whilst skiing. Why are you here?”

“I told you - I am working. I should have finished sooner, but you distracted me.”

“I don’t understand-”

“Why are you always so angry with me? Whenever you talk about me you are angry, whenever you talk to me you are angry, whenever I try to make nice you are angry-”

“You… frustrate me.”

Villanelle’s eyebrows bounce.

“Sexually?” she asks with a grin. She takes a casual step towards Eve, which suddenly becomes three and four steps towards her, until Eve is against a wall again.

How familiar.

“Jesus” Eve breathes, and she can’t help it. Villanelle examines her from up close.

“I can’t figure you out Eve. I thought you wanted me to be Fiona, and then you didn’t, I thought you wanted me to be Villanelle, and then you didn’t, I thought you wanted to touch me, and so I let you, and you liked doing it, don’t even pretend, so now… what is this? Don’t you want to touch me again? Don’t you want me to touch you?”

“Just… can you just stop, for a second? I need to be able to think, and you are-”

“Do you find it difficult to think, when I am close to you?”

“Yes” Eve breathes, and her lips are just there, and the warmth of her-

“So do I” Villanelle says, stepping away from her simply. “Extremely difficult. And I am supposed to be working.”

Eve remains against the wall for a minute, just watching Villanelle. And she imagines… god.

Maybe she doesn’t have to tell anyone. Maybe Villanelle can carry on being Fiona from Liverpool for everyone else, and they can go on dates, and Eve can fall for someone who isn’t a notorious assassin, and at home she can have Villanelle. She could have Villanelle, with all her glamour and rudeness and effortless style and impossible, irritating, addictive, loveliness, and-

Villanelle glances at her, and smiles softly.

“You are thinking terrible thoughts. I can hear them from over here.”

There’s a change in the noise levels outside, as more people arrive to work, and it helps Eve clear her head a little. She sighs heavily. 

“This, this isn’t okay. And… jesus, I wish there was some version of reality we could both occupy in which _everything_ was different, but that just isn’t going to happen, so-”

Villanelle glances over her shoulder, apparently taking note of the increased footfall outside this room, and clears her throat to interrupt Eve.

“I’m going to send you a note, okay? When this is over. I will send you a note, and you can decide whether to come or not.”

Eve doesn’t understand, it’s such a change of topic that her brain barely registers the statement.

“What? What do you mean?”

“I mean… It is up to you if you will ever see me again. You choose. My way of saying sorry. Okay? Do you understand?”

“Uh, no?”

Villanelle sighs impatiently, and then glances out into the foyer.

“Wow, okay, well hopefully you can figure it out in your own time… I have to go now. Bye.”

“Wait, you can’t just-”

Villanelle steps into her once again, and kisses her firmly on the mouth.

“You will figure it out, I am confident. And, I do really like you. That is not a lie.”

Eve’s hands want to hold on to her, but Villanelle is too quick, and she steps away, grins once at Eve, before leaving the small room.

And it is ridiculous, because as dramatically final as Villanelle has made everything sound, Eve knows that she is just returning to her desk, so what’s with all the-

Until there is a yell from the larger room.

Eve jerks away from the photocopier with a sudden start, and follows the sound, with her heart clenched like a fist.

And it turns out that it was nothing to do with the damn photocopier at all. It was the location. 

Right next to the front entrance. The front entrance to MI5. Where, if Villanelle timed things correctly, she could bump into any one of Carolyn Martyn’s important visitors.

And there, slumped on the floor, with his blood spurting through his fingers, is Richard Hargreaves, Home Secretary. His security detail, which reduces down to one bodyguard in this most secure of buildings, is shouting for help, gesturing out of the main doors as he rips his own shirt, trying to staunch the blood flow.

But he’ll fail, because Eve has never known Villanelle fail to kill anyone before. She can tell, by the rapidly widening pool of blood, the greying of the Home Secretary’s face.

And Villanelle has already left the damn building. 

And Eve knows that this time she won’t be coming back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading
> 
> yotoob.tumblr.com, or @yotoob on twitter. yotoob in ~other~ places *waggles eyebrows*
> 
> SPONSORED BY PHOTOCOPIER TONER


	19. Bit of a Mess

The rest of the day is a bit of a mess.

Turns out that when a senior member of government gets killed on intelligence service property, the police have a few questions to ask.

And then, Eve discovers after a couple of hours of sitting with Kenny and Elena, trying to find different ways to say “I told you so”, it turns out that if you are caught on CCTV being kissed by the killer seconds before the killer turns around and rips a blade through the Home Secretary’s key arteries… the police have a few more questions to ask.

It starts in a small office, and Carolyn is there.

She doesn’t speak when Eve is brought in. Carolyn just sits there, looking as collected as she usually looks. The only sign that there is anything unusual occurring is the fact that Carolyn is nursing a cup of tea, rather than her standard glass of water.

Eve holds up her hands.

“Can I just say, for the record, that I did try to repeatedly tell you that Fiona was Villanelle.”

Carolyn looks away from her, and smoothes her fingertips over her brow as though trying to wipe all of her thoughts away. She gestures at the sour faced inspectors in the room.

“Yes, well. Turns out that is what these gentlemen are most keen to talk about.”

…..

Police Inspector Doughty is not a happy man.

“So. You _knew_ that a highly skilled assassin was in the building, was _working_ for MI5 under the guise of a regular employee, and you did nothing about it? Does that summarise the situation well enough?”

Eve gulps. 

“Well, I’d say that you were missing some nuance, to be honest. Uh. As I have said, I did try, on multiple occasions, to point out that Villanelle was in the building, but nobody believed me because her paperwork all checked out as Fiona. And, I guess… I accepted that she must be Fiona. That I was mistaken.”

Doughty looks at her for a long time, glances at Carolyn, and then flips open a file next to him.

“This Villanelle… was working here for two months?”

Carolyn cleared her throat.

“Yes. During which time she behaved as any employee should.”

Doughty nods, and then turns a sheet of paper over, examining the other side.

“And she was hired from GCHQ?”

“Yes, you can follow up on that with them.”

Doughty raises his eyebrows, and then gestures at the other officer in the room, who starts making a note. 

“Oh, we will. So, Eve. Previous to your current employment here, just over a year ago, you had spent some time… independently tracking down the assassin known as Villanelle, under the private commission of Ms Martyns. You had encountered her face to face a number of times, and on your final meeting you had….” and here Doughty leans closer to the paper, squints at it, and then looks into Eve’s eyes. “… you had stabbed her?”

“Yes” Eve says, because honestly, what else can she say? Doughty pauses thoughtfully.

“There were no witnesses to this?”

Eve shakes her head. Doughty looks blankly at her, and then continues.

“And then… you had no contact with Villanelle until the moment that she arrives in these offices?”

Eve shakes her head again, and then feels she has to say something.

“That is correct.”

Doughty takes a small sip of water, and then sits back in his chair.

“You see, what I don’t understand… according to the timeline that you’ve set out, you spend about a week convinced that Villanelle was in the building, and then you say you slowly start wavering until you finally accept the wider view that is this just an uncanny coincidence, and Fiona is Fiona… but at the start, when you knew Villanelle was in the building… what did you think she was doing here?”

Eve blinks, and then bites her lip.

“I don’t understand the question.”

“Well, you know she is an assassin, you know that she must be expensive to hire, you know that she has infiltrated MI5 by elaborately adopting a whole new persona… what did you think her aim was? Why didn’t you try harder to flag the danger with someone other than your line manager?”

Eve swallows, suddenly realising the implication.

Shit, could she be arrested for this?

“I… I guess I just thought… I just thought that she was here to fuck with me. To mess with my head, to wind me up.”

Doughty stares blankly at her. 

“You are saying… that you thought all this elaborate deception… was a prank?”

“Yeah… I know how that sounds… but you don’t understand her, she doesn’t operate along normal lines of behaviour-”

“Can you explain to me why she kissed you, just before she committed murder? We checked the cameras.”

“No” Eve says, as her chest is ripped open and her heart folds in on itself with sheer mortification.

“You left your husband? A couple of months after your encounter with Villanelle in Paris?”

Eve nods, her face burning. “Yes, but that had nothing to do with-”

Carolyn interrupts at this point.

“I find this line of questioning highly irrelevant and bordering on inappropriate.”

Doughty smiles at her benignly.

“Do you? Because, it would seem to me highly likely that Villanelle had inside help in order to start working at MI5 in the first place. And, from what I can understand, Eve is the only person asides from yourself to have ever met Villanelle face to face. And you yourself have noted that Eve became highly fixated on Villanelle. And Eve put up a small protest when Villanelle first arrived here, but then she seemed to forget all about it. And then we have footage of Villanelle behaving in an extremely intimate way with Eve, moments before the Home Secretary’s murder. So I would say that this line of questioning is highly relevant to the issue of whether Villanelle was acting alone, or whether she actually had an accomplice all along.”

There is a deathly silence, in which Eve can clearly imagine her entire life falling apart.

“I think… I think I should maybe have a lawyer here with me?”

Doughty smiles grimly.

“Yes, I would say that we have reached that stage.”

…..

Eve spends the rest of the day at the police station.

The only thought that Eve can manage to hold on to, is that she must _not_ allow herself to say what she really wants to say.

That she is going to fucking kill Villanelle, jesus _this is all her fault._

Eve has a pretty good idea of how the police interviewers could use an admission like that in court. _Oh, you have a desire to kill someone? Funny that, we know someone else who got killed today in extremely close proximity to you, let’s talk about that._

It’s a busy day, and clearly figuring out where Eve sits in this whole mess is not a top priority for the MET, and so once they’ve established that Eve doesn’t have any clue where Villanelle could have gone, other than Europe, she is left alone.

For six hours. In a police detainment cell.

She is going to fucking _kill_ her.

…..

It’s almost midnight when Eve is finally brought to an interview room to meet her lawyer before her first formal interview.

Her lawyer is a neat looking woman in an expensive suit.

“Hello, my name is Linda Reynolds, I’m going to be representing you, unless you would prefer otherwise?”

Eve shakes her hand automatically, and then, just as automatically, starts apologising.

“God, I’m so sorry that you’ve had to come out this late…”

Linda dismisses this easily.

“Not a problem; I have worked with Carolyn for some years now, I am used to… unusual working hours.”

Eve stares at her.

“Carolyn sent you?”

Linda nods, and then sits down in the plastic chair provided, motioning that Eve should do the same.

“She did. And will be paying for me, so no need to worry about that. So. I’ve talked this case through with Carolyn, I hope you don’t mind, just to get me up to speed. And it seems to me that there is no case against you barring circumstantial evidence, you just got caught up in events, and so on. So, if you don’t mind, we’ve got ten minutes now to quickly review what has been happening, just you and me. And then we will be no commenting our way through the interview.”

 _Play dumb as a defence_ , a small voice in the back of her head says. Well. Shouldn’t be too difficult.

Eve nods. Linda gives her a small smile, and then slides a sheet over to her that looks like official MI5 staff documentation.

“This is the staff profile of Fiona Lewis, who from now on I will refer to as Villanelle. Can you just confirm that this is the person who killed the Home Secretary.”

Eve is about to nod, glancing at the page, when-

She blinks, and pulls the sheet towards her.

It’s… not Villanelle. 

This is… Eve looks closer. 

She looks _like_ Villanelle, a lot like her. But the eyes are different, and the hairline is different, and her nose doesn’t quite…

Eve blinks, and then looks up at Linda. Linda taps the page encouragingly.

“This is Villanelle?”

“Yes”, Eve lies.

…..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are lovely!
> 
> yotoob.tumblr.com or @yotoob on twitter, or yotoob on the other place.
> 
> SPONSORED BY I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT THE UK JUSTICE SYSTEM, AND IF THIS DOESN'T RING TRUE PLEASE DON'T TELL ME I WOULD LIKE TO LIVE IN IGNORANT BLISS


	20. No Comment

No comment.

No comment.

No comment.

Eve feels like a liar, every time she says it. Because goddammit she _does_ have comments, several, that she’d like to shout, because Villanelle is a fucking asshole and holy shit if she doesn’t tell someone the numerous and elaborate ways in which Villanelle is an asshole then Eve might just straight up die.

But she sips the lukewarm coffee, and sits in the uncomfortable chair, and allows the questions to wash over her.

“They cannot charge you with anything. They have no evidence to your involvement. The only thing they have is footage of Villanelle kissing you, and that is no evidence of anything at all. Just keep saying no comment, and they will have to release you, and this will all go away.”

This is the last thing that Linda says to Eve, before the interviewers arrive. Eve holds on to it, clinging to the phrase ‘no comment’ like a life raft.

She _is_ innocent, Eve firmly reminds herself. This is nothing to do with her. This will all go away.

No comment.

No comment.

Do you know why Richard Hargreaves was killed?

No comment.

Can you explain how Villanelle got into the building in the first place?

No comment.

Describe the efforts you made to alert the authorities to Villanelle’s presence. 

No comment.

How would you characterise your feeling towards Villanelle?

No comment.

Do you love her, Ms Polastri?

This is the only question that makes Eve pause. 

Do you love her?

She’s an asshole, is what Eve nearly says. Linda shifts slightly in her seat next to Eve.

“My client has been in this room for over two hours, after an extremely difficult day; can this interview be continued tomorrow?”

The interviewer ignores this, and just stares at Eve.

“Do you love her?”

Eve clears her throat.

“No comment.”

……

She doesn’t sleep. And this is night number two of no sleep. 

Eve is going to start keeping a list of grievances, entitled ‘Ways in which you have made my life difficult, you dickhead’, and then next time she sees Villanelle she’s going to read them aloud, and force Villanelle to apologise for each one, and then-

And then.

Twenty four hours is the maximum time that police can hold her for. It’d be longer if they suspected her of murder, but Eve doesn’t think that can be the case. The worst they can charge her with is ‘Being Exceptionally Stupid’, and well. Guilty as charged.

(Except Eve isn’t stupid. She _isn’t_. She tried to tell them all that Fiona was Villanelle, over and over again. And then she’d only stopped because if she’d have carried on she’d have probably been committed.)

(This isn’t her fault. And besides, what else was she supposed to do?)

No comment.

…..

They interview her again the next day. 

Linda murmurs to Eve as she sits down “same as yesterday please.”

Eve asks a sudden, desperate question. 

“Have they found her? Did they catch her?”

Linda shakes her head fractionally as the police officers walk in. 

That asshole, Eve thinks, relieved. 

…..

This time they show her footage.

“So. here is Villanelle, on the day of the Secretary Hargreaves’ murder. She enters, earlier than usual. And then… here she is speaking to Carolyn Martyn’s assistant, in which conversation she ascertains when Richard Hargreaves is due to be arriving.

Eve watches Villanelle on screen, as she walks around familiar corridors as Fiona.

“During which time, you can be seen arriving, also earlier than your usual time. You go to your office. You call Ms Martyn’s assistant, who tells us you were looking to check her availability that day. You ask after ‘Fiona’; you discover she is also in the building. 

Eve finds herself nodding along to this commentary, before realising that this is almost breaching the ‘no comment’ rule, and stilling herself.

The interviewer looks at her for a moment, and then continues the footage. 

“You head straight for Villanelle’s location.”

Eve watches herself walk into the photocopying room. She watches Villanelle greet her.

“You talk. What do you talk about?”

“No comment” Eve remembers in the nick of time. The footage continues.

Villanelle moves to stand close to Eve, just in front of her. The footage stops again. 

“This is very intimate, no?”

“Is that a question? Linda asks sharply. The interviewer shrugs. 

“No, just an observation.” He presses play again. Eve watches Villanelle move away from her. The footage switches to a different camera. 

“Here you can see Secretary Hargreaves arrive. You are ten metres away from him. He passes through security.”

Eve watches herself, remembers everything, feels every emotion again.

“You and Villanelle are talking again. What were you talking about?”

“No comment” Eve manages, dragging it up from the very depths of her soul.

And oh god she knows what happens next, she doesn’t need to see, she doesn’t want anyone else to see, it was private, it was just between her and-

She watches as Villanelle kisses her. And Eve watches as her own hands rise up, as through to wrap around the back of Villanelle’s neck, as though to melt into her entirely. 

Eve feels her own lips part, and _jesus_

“No comment” she says, before realising that no question has been asked.

The interviewer stares at her, for longer than is really necessary, and then presses play again.

Eve watches as Villanelle walks away from her, and then… fuck, it’s so quick. Villanelle just slides herself pass one security officer apologetically, and then there’s a sudden flurry of movement, and Villanelle is out of the door before Hargreaves has even fallen to his knees. 

“No comment” she says again, and she should be horrified, she should be, but…

That’s kind of cool, she thinks to herself, utterly helpless.

…..

They release her in the afternoon.

“Don’t go anywhere” the officer on the desk says, as she signs her papers. Eve nearly scoffs, because where on earth is she supposed to go?

She goes home.

…..

Eve has not been in her home for more than five minutes before there’s a knock at her door.

There’s no way this can be Villanelle. There is no way, she tells herself, approaching the door with trepidation, firmly clamping down on excitement welling up inside her.

It’s Carolyn. 

“Oh” Eve says stupidly, and then just stares at her. 

Carolyn raises her eyebrows after a second.

“May I come in?”

“Uh. Yeah, sure, I’m sorry about the mess…”

Carolyn picks her way through Eve’s mess as though she can’t even see it, and sits herself primly at the kitchen table.

Eve sits opposite her, having some kind of out of body experience. 

“Would you like a drink?”

Carolyn waves this away, her face betraying no expression. 

“I’m here because I thought we should speak face to face.” 

Eve nods, and then remembers that she is allowed to do more than no comment. 

“What are we speaking about?”

Carolyn reaches into her jacket, and produces today’s newspaper. It carries a picture of Richard Hargreaves, along with the picture of Fiona Lewis that Eve was shown yesterday. The picture that is very much _not_ Villanelle. She clears her throat.

“There are some occasions in which it is difficult to know where to start, and this would seem to be one of them. However… I should probably say that I’m sorry, Eve. I should have listened to you.”

Eve nods, her thoughts churning furiously in her head. Carolyn continues before Eve can wrap words around any of them.

“And, I’m afraid you are going to be fired.”

Wait, what?

Carolyn holds up a hand before she can respond. 

“If it is any consolation, I have been informed that I am _also_ going to be fired, although because I have been there for so long they are going to allow me a month’s grace, and will call it retirement instead. But nevertheless.”

“But-” Eve splutters “But I didn’t do anything wrong?”

Carolyn tips her head to one side slightly, as though examining Eve’s statement for truth, and then speaks carefully.

“Yeee-yes. Yes. I suppose not. However, that seems to be the way it is. I have assurances from Linda that you will not be prosecuted, but your career… well. It didn’t survive.”

Eve swallows a couple of times, and then looks at the newspaper. The thought crashes through her brain like a train through a house. She jabs her finger at the picture of Fiona Lewis.

“Look, I don’t care if you think I am crazy - _that_ isn’t Villanelle. That isn’t the same woman - they look similar but that’s not…. please tell me you can see that isn’t-”

Carolyn turns the paper around, and peers at it dubiously. 

There is a heavy silence, as though Carolyn is making up her mind about something.

“…No. I would agree. That isn’t her.”

Eve sits back in her chair, and then claps her hands together in small victory. “So?” she asks.

Carolyn takes her glasses off the bridge of her nose, cleans them for a moment, and then puts them on again. 

“Remarkable” she says offhandedly. “I have no idea how she does it.”

Eve could flip the table, with the sudden firework of anger that fills her. Because why has she only just realised-

“Really? You _really_ have no idea how she does it?”

Carolyn stares coolly at her for a moment, and then gives her a mild smile. 

“All the best for the future Eve - do reach out if you need anything.”

…..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are wonderful!
> 
> yotoob.tumblr.com (if that site even still exists omg) or @yotoob on twitter, OR, you know. The ko fi place.
> 
> (Btw, I've noticed a few people contacting me at yotoobfiction.tumblr.com - that's an old blog of mine, it's been inactive for a few years now.)
> 
> SPONSORED BY SHIT I DON'T KNOW YOU CHOOSE


	21. Bordering on Sweet

The newspapers carry Fiona Lewis’ picture all week.

Eve stares at the picture, stares at her forever, but that just isn’t Villanelle. The jaw line is slightly off, and the spacing between the eyes isn’t quite right, and-

It’s a man hunt, on a massive scale. The murder of the Home Secretary is the headline on every news channel, every newspaper, the only thing that the radio is talking about…

Eve should be grateful that her name doesn’t appear in the papers. There are downsides to working in the Intelligence Services, but one benefit is that the people there know how to keep their mouths closed, and none of her colleagues can have lifted the lid to the press on any possible links or connections between the murderer of the Home Secretary, and Eve.

Thank god.

And Eve… 

She wrestles with herself. Because every morning, when she wakes up and checks the news, she learns that Villanelle has not yet been caught. 

And every morning there is a corresponding pang of relief to go with that news. Eve doesn’t want Villanelle to be caught. She wants… things to be private. For everyone else to just go away, and for Eve to be able to yell at Villanelle in her own time and space.

Is it her civic duty to let the police know that the woman in the pictures is not Villanelle? That Eve doesn’t know who she is, but she sure as hell isn’t Villanelle?

Someone else working at MI5 must have noticed. Someone else can tell the police, god knows Eve wants to stay as far away from this mess as possible.

….

Besides, what could Eve even say? The woman in the picture does look a hell of a lot like Villanelle. Eve can’t talk about Villanelle’s eyes being a fraction wider, or the line of her jaw needing a slight adjustment. They’d think she was crazy.

(But she isn’t. She _isn’t_.)

The missing Fiona Lewis is investigated thoroughly by the press. Eve reads all the coverage hawkishly.

Fiona grew up in Liverpool, an only child. She had a normal childhood. She went to Sheffield University. Her parents both passed away whilst she was completing her studies, and that seemed to be the end of any of Fiona’s close family. She was hired to the Manchester GCHQ base straight out of university. Fiona was described as a pleasant, hard working, intelligent woman who had been making great strides with her career, hence her move down to London.

Eve doesn’t understand where Villanelle fits into all of this, but the various pictures of Fiona that flood across the press all show a girl, and then a woman, who looks a _lot_ like Villanelle _but actually isn’t Villanelle_.

Eve thinks that she would give up half her remaining life, just to get to the bottom of how Villanelle has pulled this off.

Carolyn has to be involved. She had to know. As Inspector Doughty had said, this wouldn’t be possible without inside help, and it certainly wasn’t Eve providing the help.

…..

A month passes.

Eve reads the brief coverage of Carolyn’s retirement with interest - it’s only a line in a wider piece about a significant review of the security services in the UK. The new Home Secretary swears that she will not rest until the killer of Secretary Hargreaves is brought to justice.

But the story slowly slips from the front pages of the newspapers. It becomes the second item on the BBC news headlines, and then the third.

Eve eats cereal in her pyjamas, and wonders what Villanelle is doing, what she is wearing, who she is killing, how she is celebrating-

She’ll be back in Europe, Eve decides. In some fancy apartment, delighted with her own deception, with the straightforward way she tricked Eve and the rest of the British public to boot.

And there still aren’t any pictures. That’s the most infuriating thing. All the CCTV coverage of the MI5 offices is _good_ , but nowhere near good enough to pick out the subtle differences between Villanelle’s face and Fiona’s. And so Eve is left with the old prison headshot of Villanelle, from about one hundred years ago, and a myriad of pictures of Fiona Lewis.

Fiona Lewis. Who Eve has never met.

Eve stares sadly at the picture of Fiona Lewis, and wonders how she died. 

…..

Elena contacts her.

They go to the same pub they always used to go to. Eve orders her usual, as though nothing has changed.

Elena lifts her glass in a toast.

“To being fired” she says cheerily. Eve meets her glass without enthusiasm.

“You too?”

“Yep. I was told that they are rearranging, and my role will no longer exist after next month, but we all know that that is just a nice way of says ‘you’re fired’ so-” Elena shrugs, and takes a rueful sip of her drink before continuing.

“Same thing has happened to Kenny. He’s being moved into a different department, but it is one that is based in Watford, so that’s the equivalent of being fired. Or dying. His mum’s influence couldn’t protect him much, seeing as she shat the bed so copiously. He says he’s going to quit, go into freelance work. He says hi by the way, he’s sorry he couldn’t make it.”

Eve nods slightly, and then sits back in her chair.

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey” Elena shrugs. “It’s not your fault. You tried to tell us Fiona was Villanelle, we talked you out of it. Turns out that Villanelle is a bigger dickhead than we gave her credit for. I didn’t like working there anyway. I’m going to open an old fashioned book shop, and sell books from underneath a blanket, live like a witch, you know. The usual.”

Eve smiles at that, and then says “fuck, it’s not losing the job, it’s the… not knowing. I can’t… believe that I’m never going to find out how she managed all this.”

Elena nods.

“Yeah, I’m going to be long gone from MI5 before they figure this shit out I think. Do you reckon she’s even in the country?”

“No.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, I know.”

They sit in companionable silence for a while after that, watching the world go by. 

“Oh” Elena says, sitting forward in her chair again. “I did figure out one thing though. Tiny thing, and you’ve probably already got there yourself but…. you know the whole, mouth stuff that we were bouncing around with? Some of the more recent murders that we thought were Villanelle - the ‘sorry baby’ note in the mouth, and then the apparent suicide with his hand over his mouth?”

Eve raises her eyebrows to show she understand, and oh geez, that obvious? But she lets Elena say it.

“It was just a sign of the ‘unsaid’ after all. Villanelle was walking around in front of us using a completely different personality and accent all the time, which is quite a lot of unsaid. _And_ the ‘sorry baby’ note in the mouth? Well I tracked the time line back, and that murder happened the night after you first found out Villanelle was alive and operating in the UK. She was saying sorry to you for not being in touch - she must have known you were told that day.”

Eve stares at her drink, and then-

God, she misses her all over again.

“That’s… oddly considerate of her.”

Elena snorts, and shakes her head. “Bordering on sweet. What a dickhead.”

…..

It’s not much, but this small solved mystery helps Eve finds a brighter mood for the rest of her time with Elena.

They’ll keep in touch, Elena promises, but whether she’s talking to Eve or herself Eve isn’t sure. 

“If you need me I’ll be under a blanket. Selling books to strangers. Building up a mystique.”

Eve smiles at her, and then hugs her goodbye.

…..

Maybe it’s for the best if Eve never knows. If she tells herself firmly enough, maybe she can just lose interest in the whole thing, and these past few years can be marked down as A Weird Time, and then she could just move the fuck on.

Except… except…

Except it is so difficult to not want Villanelle. Eve wants her here, now, wants her to be walking along this pavement with her, wants to bump into her at the corner store, wants to hear her laughter and see the grin on her face when Eve rolls her eyes at her, wants the bundle of contradictions and the flirtation that comes with it, wants-

But she’s not allowed to have it. Because she is Eve Polastri, and that sort of thing doesn’t happen to her.

When she opens her front door, there’s a postcard on the doormat.

Eve glances once at the picture, and then turns it over.

_Sorry Baby._

…..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Feedback and kudos are great <3
> 
> yotoob.tumblr.com, or @yotoob on twitter. Please don't expect me to be intelligent or articulate on either. Or [REDACTED]
> 
> SPONSORED BY MORE ELENA IN SEASON TWO PLEASE


	22. Every Square Inch of Available Plot

Eve travels to St Pancreas Station. 

She doesn’t often go through this end of London, and she is momentarily disorientated, and feels the mild discomfort she occasionally feels whenever she is lost in London. Lost and Asian in London. She resents the passersby, deciding without evidence that they have all wrongfully concluded that she is a tourist.

“Excuse me… which way to the… thank you.”

She hates not knowing where she is going. In fact, Eve hates any gaps in her knowledge. She wants to be an expert on everything, instantly. She never wants to learn, or at least publicly admit that she has to learn. She used to spend long hours staying up until the early hours of the morning, trying to cram as much knowledge into her head as possible, just to be more informed than her classmates, or her colleagues…

Maybe that’s why she can’t stop following Villanelle. Because there are _answers_ , hidden behind Villanelle’s eyes, etched in the touch of her fingertips, and Eve can’t stop until she has them all, until she knows everything…

At the passport check Eve struggles to keep her face straight, because although she isn’t doing anything _wrong_ , she has guilt following her like a shadow now. Because she wants what she shouldn’t want, and she should be helping the police with their enquiries, but instead she is…

Eve boards the Eurostar train. 

Once she finds her seat, and settles her various bags into the overhead luggage rack with a struggle, Eve digs the postcard out of her coat pocket.

_Sorry Baby_

Villanelle had said that she would send her a note. “When this is all over”. Eve is grateful that she managed to hold on to that piece of information, that she didn’t lose it in the adrenaline of watching the Home Secretary die in front of her.

This is hardly a note. This is a postcard. But Eve has decided that this is as much as she is going to get. It’s a game, with Villanelle, it’s always a game, about how much Eve can figure out, about how long it would take to find her. 

“You found me.” Eve can still hear the sing song lilt of her voice, like all the murder was just a silly excuse to play hide and seek.

This postcard is of a stretch of canal in Bruges, lined with imposing town houses. In the window of one of the buildings, a heart has been drawn.

There is no other information.

But Eve has figured out more on less. 

Her palm aches, but not in the way that she felt before, when she wanted to slap Villanelle. 

Now she just wants to touch her again.

…..

Bruges is a compact city. Eve has visited before, once, for a hen party. That was about six years ago, but Eve remembers well enough the cobbled streets, the uniform way in which the town houses filled almost every square inch of available plot. 

It was a neat place, not as chaotic as Paris, not self aware as London. Eve had appreciated the canals, the subdued elegance. 

Of course, everything had been far too expensive, and still is. Eve chokes back a laugh when she realises that she is going to have to pay seven euros just for a coffee, and hands over the necessary.

Bruges is compact, but not miniature. She spends half an hour optimistically thinking that she will be able to find the building by herself, but eventually concedes that she is going to have to ask someone, and besides, here she _is_ a tourist. She is allowed to ask.

Eve’s French is not good at all. She’s pretty sure that everyone she asks can speak English, but they all feign distant confusion in the face of her polite requests on whether they can recognise the buildings in the postcard.

Eventually she encounters an English tourist who is happy to help her, and they peer at the postcard together.

“Uhhhh, yes, I think I was walking along that street just yesterday… hang on, let me check the map.”

The image is of the canal side of the hotel. Eve discovers this when she eventually finds the building. She holds up the picture in satisfaction, fitting it against the backdrop, and then dropping the card down.

Now what?

It all feels a little bit too easy. Eve walks the canal until she reaches a bridge, and then crosses, finds the front entrance and…

What, is she supposed to just walk in and ask for Villanelle? That feels… unlikely to result in success.

Eve finds a coffee shop opposite, and eats a croissant, trying to regroup. She checks the postcard, trying to see if there is any further information that she somehow missed on the other several hundred examinations. 

No, nothing. Just the picture, and the heart.

Eve finds herself wondering whether Villanelle considered drawing a smiley face. Or a knife. Or a photocopier-

She snorts, and looks up, and then nearly stands up in shock, because Villanelle is leaving the hotel.

…..

After a mad fumble in her pockets for money that’ll cover the incredibly expensive croissant, Eve dashes down the street in the gathering gloom. She latches on to a figure, far distant, and paces after her. 

It’s… Eve remembers, a long time ago, how she had followed someone half way across central London before realising that she was not Villanelle. 

But this is not the same, because even though Eve can only make out the back of her, the blonde hair and her height, this has to be Villanelle, the odds of it not being her are just too high.

Plus this figure feels familiar, walks in a familiar way-

Although.

Although. 

Eve has a momentary doubt, when she realises that she isn’t watching Villanelle’s walk, but instead watching how Villanelle walks when she is being Fiona.

She stands still for a second, when the realisation hits her, but then has to carry on because it is that or lose Villanelle entirely.

Why is Villanelle walking like Fiona?

Eve embarks on a long mental exercise of trying to figure out why… is she using this new persona for some other job now? Is Eve about to watch Villanelle kill someone else?

Jesus, Eve suddenly feels embarrassed. What if the postcard was just that - a postcard, a quick apology, with no follow up expected, and now Eve is about to interrupt Villanelle on a job just because she can’t read between the lines?

Eve increases her pace, and she wonders if Villanelle knows that she is just behind her. She hasn’t turned around once that Eve can spot, but there’s no way that Villanelle allows someone as incompetent as Eve to sneak up on her…

Eve needs to stop thinking for once and just-

She reaches out, and grabs Villanelle’s elbow.

“Hey!”

“Oh!… oh… hiya, you’re Eve. Hi! It’s nice to meet you.”

Eve stares at her face for five seconds, and then says, “Oh for fuck’s sake… _you’re_ Fiona. Oh for fuck’s _sake_ \- I’m going to kill her.”

Fiona smiles quickly at her, and then nods.

“Oh yeah, I get that… she’s really annoying, isn’t she?”

…..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, commenting, kudos, etc. Your appreciation is appreciated.
> 
> yotoob.tumblr.com or @yotoob on twitter OR! yotoob! on the! other! place! No pressure xo
> 
> SPONSORED BY HO HO HO IF YOU HAVEN'T GOOGLED BETTY GILPIN'S FACE BY NOW, BEST GET ON IT RIGHT AWAY, BECAUSE FUCK YES I HAVE JUST CAST MY GLOW FAVOURITE TO HAVE A CAMEO STAR ROLE IN MY FANFIC
> 
> BETTY I LOVE YOU AND I AM HERE SUPPORTING YOUR CAREER (BTW I HOPE YOU CAN DO A LIVERPUDLIAN ACCENT OTHERWISE THIS IS NEVER GOING TO WORK)


	23. Some Answers

And then, all over again, Eve is staring at Fiona’s face. 

They’re in a bar, and Eve is still covered in flakes of pastry from her croissant in the cafe, but Fiona has ordered them two beers and a bowl of nuts in passable French, and so here Eve sits, blinking at Fiona’s face. 

“I’m afraid you have to drink beer here; they serve you faster.”

Eve nods, and then stares at her face… her face…

“You… you do look like her. A lot like her.”

Fiona nods, and takes a sip of her drink, wiping the froth away from her lip self-consciously. 

“Yeah, I know. Although I’ve not spent the last few years of my life swanning around Europe buying the most expensive face cream money can buy, so I have more lines around my eyes than she does…”

Fiona laughs slightly at the end of her statement, and her laugh… even the laugh…

Eve stares at her. Fiona raises her eyebrows at her, and then takes a handful of peanuts, tossing them in her mouth. She speaks around them.

“Um… she said you might be a bit prone to staring- she, sorry, ‘cuse me, she said that you would stare at her all the time.”

Eve snorts abruptly, colouring.

“Yeah, well, that was when I couldn’t figure out why someone who was not Villanelle looked exactly like Villanelle, but now I’m staring because… are you… twins? Sisters? I don’t understand.”

Fiona shrugs. 

“No, just… we look similar. And then Villanelle stole all of my gestures and actions and phrasing, and that compounds the similarity. But no, I don’t think we’re related. We haven’t had, like, a blood test, but me mam led a fairly boring life, I can’t imagine her having a secret extra daughter who was raised Russian. That sort of thing doesn’t happen on the Wirral.”

Even the voice… Fiona’s voice is slightly lower, but the intonation, the accent…

There’s deja vu, and then there’s being hit by a fucking spade to the face.

“I’m sorry, I still think I’m missing a number of details… why are you here? How do you know her? How are you not arrested for murder? Why isn’t she here?”

Fiona latches on to the last question.

“We’re both staying in that hotel, but she thought everything would be simpler if you met me first. She was making up these bullshit plans about where she was going to hide… she didn’t think you’d get here until tomorrow.”

“She was going to hide?”

“Yeah, she was in my room just now complaining that the curtains weren’t long enough to hide behind. Then she was checking whether she could fit inside the wardrobe, and I left because _fuck_ she does go on a bit when she is nervous.”

It’s a lot of information all at once. 

“She’s nervous?”

“Well, yeah, she thinks you’re going to be mad with her. I was like ‘well duh, obviously’, which didn’t help.”

Eve takes a sip of her drink, trying to process the idea of Villanelle being nervous.

“Okay… but why _are_ you here? Could you just… is she threatening you, somehow?”

Fiona snorts, and then laughs.

“No? Oh wow, you’ve really got the wrong idea, no it’s nothing like that…”

…..

Fiona takes her through the timeline. And she doesn’t know the answers to all of Eve’s questions, but it fills in at least what Eve can understand as the ‘Fiona’ side of the mystery.

“And Villanelle doesn’t mind you telling me all this?”

Fiona shrugs, eating another peanut.

“No? I think she wants me to tell you… it’s probably easier to believe it from me. Besides, it’d pretty difficult for her to talk you through all this whilst she’s hiding under the bed, or whatever the grand plan is.”

Eve takes a slow sip of her drink, and sits back in her chair, feeling… calmer than she has in months. Answers, she thinks, finally some answers.

“Okay, let me go through it again, if that’s okay?”

“Sure.”

“So…” Eve begins, and then takes a deep breath. “You are Fiona Lewis. You have always been Fiona Lewis. Everything in the press is true - you went to Sheffield University, you don’t have any family, you were working for GCHQ…”

“Yep” Fiona says, nodding easily. Eve continues.

“And then one day, about three years into your time at GCHQ, Villanelle knocks on your door.”

“That’s right” Fiona says, before expanding “She was… a bit of a mess. Recovering from a stab wound she said, which I initially thought was a joke, but I’ve since learned wasn’t. Anyway, she said she had a proposition, a job offer, and…. god I hated working at GCHQ.”

“Really?” Eve asks. Fiona nods again.

“Fuck, yes, every day was the same shit, I had thought working for the secret service would be interesting but no, I was sitting at the same desk looking at the same files feeling…unfulfilled. Ignored. Like I was wasting my life, you know what I mean?”

Eve nods, because oh boy she does. Fiona must see the conviction in her eyes, and her lips twitch into a sympathetic smile.

“So yeah, I would listen to this job offer from a girl who looked like me. Only, it turned out to be more than a job offer - it was a new life. Villanelle said I would have to move to Europe, abandon everything, new name, new life, new documentation. And in return… I didn’t really have to do anything. Just exist, and be paid well.”

Fiona pauses, and takes a sip of her drink, looking away from Eve for a moment.

“I’m not… proud of it, you know. The deception. But - I’d been struggling financially for a while, my debts were insane, I hated my job, I had no family, no close friends, and so I just thought… fuck it.”

Eve waits. Fiona continues after a second. 

“I just left my house as it was. Left it as it was, Villanelle gave me a new passport, new documents, now I was Elisabeth… and I moved to Paris.”

Fiona grins at some memory, and then explains. 

“We lived together in some fucked up old apartment in Paris, as roommates, you know, and Villanelle starts copying me as she is recuperating. Like, _really_ badly at first, you should have heard the accent, jesus christ. But she’s a fast learner, and then she was laughing like me, and then she was moving like me… and, it was really fucking weird, to be honest, but she kept on saying that it is easier to copy than invent, and she was going to have to be me all the time… I didn’t completely understand what she was up to, but then things got serious when Konstantin turned up-”

“He’s alive?” Eve interrupts, she can’t help it. Fiona nods.

“Oh yeah, last I checked? Why, is he meant to be dead?”

“Uh, I was told he was dead. Villanelle shot him in the stomach, I saw it.”

“Oh?” Fiona says, as though Eve has just dropped in that Villanelle is pretty good at cross stitch. “Well. No he’s definitely alive. Alive and _grumpy_ , although the shooting explains some of that. Anyway, he turned up, Villanelle kept on speaking to him in broad Scouse just to shit with him, and then he sat me down and told me that I needed to be sure that I was certain about the next step. That I wasn’t going to cause trouble.”

“And the next step was…” Eve prompts. Fiona shrugs awkwardly.

“Villanelle was going to use my identity to start working at MI5, with the long term plan of killing a senior government official.”

Eve stares at her. 

“And you just… you just okayed this?”

Fiona bites her lip.

“I wasn’t, like, thrilled about it. I think that Konstantin was worried I was going to run home, that he needed to threaten me or something but…But I was enjoying my new life. I had all the money I could want, I could chose whichever direction I wanted my life to go in, and to be honest, I didn’t really think she’d be able to pull it off. Plus… I like Villanelle. I wanted to help her out. She is annoyingly-”

“Likeable” Eve finishes for her. Fiona takes a sip of her drink, staring at Eve as though trying to judge Eve’s thoughts. And then she shrugs.

“Well. Yes. So I did my part. Villanelle disappeared. I stayed in Paris. I brushed up on my French. I did the things I wanted to do. And if it all went to shit… I wasn’t Fiona Lewis anymore. And I was out of the country. They might catch Villanelle, but the British police wouldn’t catch me because they didn’t know I was already out of the country. Besides… the MI5 staff picture of me-” and here Fiona digs into her pocket, and pulls out her phone, tapping on it to bring up the image. She slides it over to Eve.

“That picture isn’t of Villanelle, but it isn’t quite me either. The week before the murder was committed, they switched the photo of Villanelle for that one. It’s just a manip of our faces. Photoshop, you know. Something like that, I dunno. But that woman, the Fiona that they’re looking for, doesn’t actually exist, she just has two lookalikes - me and Villanelle.”

Eve stares at the picture, and then looks at Fiona.

“So Villanelle had inside help?”

Fiona raises her eyebrows.

“Yeah. Of course she did. But I don’t know anything about that side of it to be honest. I’ve been kept well away from all that. All I had to do was sit in Paris being unobtrusive. Oh, and speak to Villanelle on the phone regularly, to help her maintain her accent. That was tedious, god she talked so much about you, she was constantly going on about how she couldn’t believe that you didn’t recognise her. I think she was offended.”

Eve rolls her eyes.

“I did recognise her. I just couldn’t keep pointing out the obvious if nobody was listening to me.”

Fiona smiles knowingly at Eve. 

“Sure. And you were enjoying the intrigue. A little bit. Admit it.”

Eve tries to frown haughtily at her, but Fiona’s smile is too infectious, and she smiles back after a second.

“Fine. A little bit. You are not the only one whose boring job drives them to madness…”

Fiona laughs, and then checks her watch.

“Shall we go back to the hotel? If we surprise her, we might not have to extract her from a cupboard. 

…..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, comments, kudos - all feedback is lovely!
> 
> yotoob.tumblr.com, or @yotoob on twitter, or yotoob on the place of the coffees
> 
> SPONSORED BY SOME ANSWERS? MAYBE? NOT ALL YET? BUT SOME? OMG I'M NERVOUS


	24. Surreal

This hotel is fancy. 

It shouldn’t be surprising. Eve should have known that Villanelle would be staying in some high end, subtly elegant hotel that would make Eve feel inadequate just for breathing in their foyer. Eve is reminded of the champagne in Villanelle’s fridge all over again, and the dizzying exhilaration of shattering the bottles on the floor.

Fiona leads her through a corridor to an elevator, and she inserts the key card into a slot.

“We’re on the top floor” Fiona says, matter of factly. “It’s the whole floor actually. More private.” Eve nods, because of course. 

She finds herself wondering who pays for all of this. And then she is wondering how much money Villanelle earns by killing, how much money two seconds worth of slicing Richard Hargreaves key arteries translates into. 

Probably more than Eve earns in a year, and _that’s_ annoying. Eve knows that she should be horrified, but she’s mainly annoyed, at the effortless way Villanelle completes difficult, near impossible tasks. 

She glances at Fiona, and suddenly she’s annoyed with Fiona, despite how friendly she is. Fiona managed to check out of her mundane life and start a new one? With zero repercussions and what sounds like a simple, easy access to Villanelle. Eve’s stomach is almost churning with envy.

Vaguely, Eve remembers that maybe she should be afraid of Villanelle. That maybe just delivering herself into Villanelle’s rooms isn’t the smartest plan. But she feels just… past all of that. Oh, you want to kill me? Sure, just answer some of my questions first you asshole.

The elevator opens out into a large room, quietly sleek and with comfortable couches surrounding a square rug in the middle. Eve steps into it, and…. jesus the smell of her. It’s suddenly…everywhere, hammering at the barricade that Eve has built around her brain, because she isn’t allowed to want Villanelle, this isn’t that, it isn’t…

“You still here? Or hiding in the ceiling?” Fiona calls this out in way of greeting, and there is a grunt in reply from one of the rooms that leads off from the main sitting room Eve is currently occupying. Fiona gestures towards that door, and mouths _her room_ towards Eve, but Eve would suddenly rather set herself on fire than simply present herself in Villanelle’s bedroom. 

She’s furious, all of a sudden, for reasons that she cannot quite articulate other than _why is all of this so normal? Why is everything so calm and settled and serene?_

She walks automatically to the open window, her fury ratcheting up as her feet encounter the luxurious, deep pile nature of the carpets. 

The canal below her is still, reflecting the dusk grey sky above Bruges, and the street lights that line the pedestrian path on the far side. Eve takes in deep breaths, and tries to retune to the conversation going on around her.

“Where did you go? I was in the middle of talking to you and then you were not there.”

“Yeah, sorry, I needed some fresh air, and you hadn’t really said anything new in a couple of hours.” Fiona is shrugging off her coat, and takes it into what Eve assumes is her own room. 

It’s… surreal. _Roommates?_ Eve thinks. Is this what is happening? The sight of Fiona casually strolling around the space, talking to Villanelle as though she is an annoying little sister rather than an incredibly dangerous assassin riles at Eve. 

Fiona is enjoying herself, clearly.

“We have a visitor, by the way.”

“Oh? Konstantin, you out there? Are you here to hear me speak in that accent again, I know you love it-”

Villanelle appears in the doorway, and jesus, she’s even towelling her hair dry from the shower, this isn’t fair, this isn’t fair-

“Oh” Villanelle says, and blinks at Eve. “Oh” she says again, looks at Fiona, and then looks back at Eve.

It’s a glorious two seconds, in which Eve has surprised Villanelle, Villanelle is the one struggling for something to say.

“Oh” Villanelle says again, and then smiles. “You found me.”

“Yeah” Eve nods, remembering the last time, when she had found Villanelle with the plan of hurting her, somehow. Now her only plan is… answers. And _god_ , just a chance to stop chasing the truth, for once.

Villanelle nods back, almost sinfully innocent, in an oversized sweater with damp hair curling at the tips.

“That’s good” she smiles, “I knew you would.”

Eve looks at her for a long moment, just… drinking her in, and then laughs shortly, slumping her shoulders. 

“Well, I nearly didn’t, seeing as I was nearly arrested for murder. You asshole.”

Villanelle makes an awkward face, and then steps a bit further into the room, perching on the armrest of the couch.

“Mmm, whoops. Sorry. But they didn’t charge you, did they? But I’m sorry, that was my fault, I shouldn’t have kissed you before killing him.”

“No, that was not helpful.”

Villanelle bites her lip, and looks away from Eve.

“No.”

Eve rolls her eyes, and then says shortly “Killing him wasn’t helpful either.”

Villanelle shrugs. “It was my job. You know this.”

“Your job is… extremely inconvenient for me.”

“I am sorry about that.”

“No you are not.”

Villanelle shrugs, entirely unrepentant. Eve stares at her.

Now what?

Fiona coughs awkwardly from the other side of the room.

“Um… Eve, do you want a drink? A glass of wine?”

Villanelle nods eagerly, as if this is the greatest idea in the world. “Yes, wine? We have wine, it is good wine…. Or coffee? You like coffee, do you want a coffee? We have a machine in this room, no problems for coffee. Or, um. Or tea?”

Eve snorts, because Fiona was right, Villanelle is nervous. The murderous psychopath is nervous about this conversation. Eve points a finger at Villanelle.

“I am extremely angry with you. I just… feel I need to state that, here and now.”

Villanelle seems to find her contrite switch again, and assumes an extremely somber, mournful air.

“Oh yes, Fiona was explaining that to me, you are going to be angry with me, and probably shout at me a lot. I am ready for that now, if you want to start?” Villanelle shrugs, and spreads her hands.

Eve…. it just all catches up all of a sudden. She is exhausted.

“No. I’m going to bed. You have a bed, in your bedroom? Right, okay. I’m sleeping there tonight. Don’t even… just don’t, right now. I cannot deal with you now. I need to sleep, jesus… you are a dickhead, have I told you that yet? You are a dickhead. Can I use your bed? Great, thank you, excuse me-”

…..

Eve is warm.

And…. oh god so comfortable, she cannot remember the last time she felt this comfortable.

It’s dark. If she had to guess, Eve would say that the hour is still before midnight, but it is a vague guess, a half guess.

Eve is aware that there is someone trying to move inconspicuously around the room. Her sleeping brain seems to have determined that it is nothing to panic about, and Eve blinks sleepily in the half light.

It’s Villanelle. 

“Hey” Eve murmurs at her. The shadowy outline of Villanelle stills entirely, and then she whispers back “Sorry. I was trying to let you stay asleep. I’m going to sleep on the couch, I just needed my sleep clothes-”

Eve grunts sleepily, and then mumbles “Oh jesus, don’t be stupid, just… get in here, will you.”

Villanelle pauses, still hovering at the other side of the bed. “Really?” she whispers, and Eve sighs, impatient to get back to sleep.

“Yes, just… no talking.”

There is a few moments of quiet noises, as Villanelle evidently changes her clothes, and then the duvet lifts, and Villanelle slides into bed next to her.

The conscious parts of Eve’s brain respectfully submit that this was not the plan, and that this might be skipping a few of the steps required to reach a reconciliation. These are annoying thoughts that Eve doesn’t want to reflect upon too deeply, and that’s why she needs to be back asleep, as soon as possible.

“Come here” she murmurs, and Villanelle complies, arranging herself until her arm is across Eve’s stomach, and she is hugging her from behind, spooning her as though this is how they always fall asleep together.

Sleep. God that sounds like such a good idea.

Villanelle sighs contentedly, and then whispers “No stabbing me, okay?”

Eve grunts in agreement, and smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, kudos, comments, etc. You are all marvellous.
> 
> yotoob.tumblr.com, or @yotoob on twitter
> 
> SPONSORED BY ENTIRELY UNEXPECTED CUDDLING?


	25. Soundproof

Waking up is not something Eve does well.

Usually she drags herself to consciousness, kicking and screaming. Usually the light is an intruder, the morning a charlatan, the duvet her only defence against the outside world.

Usually.

At some point in the night Eve has turned into the centre of the bed, and now, in the whispering half light of dawn, she is looking at Villanelle’s profile.

Eve struggles to find some of her anger, just to have some kind of emotion other than a deep abiding sensation of peace.

This is where she is _meant_ to be. This is what she has been struggling towards for millions of seconds, each one weighing on her like a year.

Villanelle is asleep. Next to her. And their legs are touching, and now that Eve relocates more of her senses, she realises that the back of Villanelle’s hand is just resting against Eve’s stomach, as though checking she is still there.

Eve bites her lip, and she suddenly doesn’t want to know the time, because any amount of time like this isn’t going to be enough.

Villanelle must sense that Eve is awake, or at least have been nudged awake by Eve’s own rise to consciousness, because she shifts slightly. And Eve is never going to be able to replace the cat analogy, as Villanelle stretches, sighs contentedly, and then rolls onto her side so she is face to face with Eve, all without opening her eyes.

Eve’s heart is…. jesus. They’re so close.

Villanelle’s eyes blink open briefly, and she scrunches her nose in a little facial stretch, before snuggling deeper into her pillow, and oh, oh, oh-

Eve is completely lost.

“Hey” she says, rather than a declaration of anything else that might be wanting to come out of her mouth right now.

Villanelle pouts a little, as though resenting being forced into conversation, and then blinks sleepily at her. She smiles. 

“Hi.”

Eve… Eve remembers that she has been struggling uphill through life to reach this moment because she wants to call Villanelle a dickhead.

“I was really angry with you. I just want that on the table before anything else. Really angry.”

Villanelle turns away from her, briefly hiding her face in the pillow as though Eve is the scariest thing that she has ever encountered, and then looks at her again.

“Okay, you were really angry…. and now?”

Eve rolls her eyes a little, and says “Oh, I’m still angry, this isn’t a free pass away from anger.”

Villanelle nods once, and then says “Okay.”

There’s a silence.

Villanelle’s eyes trace over her face, and Eve can tell when Villanelle is looking at her eyes, her forehead, her nose, her cheekbones, her eyes, her mouth, her chin, her mouth, her eyes, her mouth…

“You remember the last time we were looking at each other in bed?” Villanelle asks this almost as a statement, as if she knows as well as Eve that the memory is etched onto her consciousness indelibly.

“Yes” Eve allows. Villanelle smiles vaguely.

“Yes. You stabbed me.” It’s said without judgement, just presented for Eve’s reaction.

Eve feels herself nods slightly.

“Yes. I did. It was not... well thought through.”

Villanelle snorts a little, and Eve can see the white of her teeth.

“No, it was not, it ruined my perfectly good foreplay. And my stomach, you ruined that too, look-” Villanelle rolls onto her back, lifts the covers away from herself, and pulls up her top, until Eve can just see the faint indentation on her skin, the mark that Eve has left on her.

It will never disappear.

Eve wonders if that was her plan all along.

“I’m sorry. I wish I had done things differently…”

Villanelle’s eyebrows quirk.

“Oh for sure, like I said, it ruined my excellent foreplay…”

Villanelle allows her top to drop down again, and then turns back to Eve, eyes roving all over her face, and jesus it’s like a physical touch.

Eve surprises herself by blushing. And then.… Villanelle reaches out, strokes one delicate fingertip over Eve’s cheekbone.

“Well. All this, tricking you... I had to do it for my job, but was also... a way of paying you back. For the trick. For the stabbing. We are even now, I think. You do one quick trick with grievous bodily harm, I do one long trick with no grievous bodily harm….”

As Villanelle speaks her fingertip trails down the side of Eve’s face, dragging lightly through her hair, until it’s tracing quietly just behind Eve’s jaw. It’s an absent minded sort of motion, and Villanelle follows the path of her finger lazily with her eyes. Eve shifts away from the sensation, not because it feels bad, but rather because it is just too much. 

Villanelle stops, lifting her finger.

“What is wrong?”

Eve sighs, and then tucks her chin down, embarrassed. “I’m, I’m sensitive there.” Villanelle smiles, and then retracts her hand, tucking it back under the covers.

“Okay” she says softly. “I will remember that.”

Eve… Eve just stares at her. Trying to remember - god anything about how things used to be. How she used to carry herself through life.

“I’ve lost my job. Again. And I don’t have a husband any more… I live in some crappy… and I’ve lost... every part of my old life. Because of you. And don’t tell me that I got some nice clothes out of it, that isn’t an answer. So tell me why I shouldn’t be furious with you? Tell me something to make things feel fair, because I… I’m struggling.”

Villanelle grunts softly, and then turns away from Eve, looking up at the ceiling. She doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Eve has the sense that Villanelle is rehearsing an answer in her head before she says it aloud.

“Well. You could, uh. You could say you got me out of it?” Villanelle bites her lip, and glances once at Eve. “I could be yours, if you want me?”

It’s proffered so hesitantly, as though Villanelle isn’t sure if that’s any kind of offer at all.

Eve feels her heart turn over slowly in her chest. And… well. It’s what she wanted, isn’t it? If she’s honest with herself.

She doesn’t react for a long moment, and then Eve shifts closer, aligning their bodies. She presses her head against Villanelle’s temple. 

Villanelle sighs, and Eve finds herself echoing it even before she has finished.

Peace. Is this what peace is?

“I’m jealous of Fiona” Eve finds herself saying, out of nowhere. “She gets to... see you when you are at home, relaxed. I want that.”

Villanelle grunts slightly, in a noise that is almost a laugh. “I like Fiona” she says. “She is very non judgemental. She was not supposed to stay around, but she does.”

Eve finds another question, brand new and not even internally considered first. “Have you fucked her?” she asks.

Villanelle takes a small intake of breath, surprised by the question, and then laughs quietly.

“What, no? No, I mean, she is beautiful, because she looks like me, so- but no. I have….” Villanelle trails off, and then sighs fretfully, as if announcing terrible news. “I have been compromised. I only have you in my head. No one else fits.”

Eve... Eve presses her palm of her hand to Villanelle’s far cheek, turns her face towards her, and kisses her.

…..

Kissing Villanelle is like… nothing in this world.

It’s just lips. It’s just a mouth, and skin, and warmth, and pressure. There’s no need for Eve to be feeling like this, as though she’s never even been kissed before, as though Villanelle is kissing her very soul.

Villanelle kisses at the spot that Eve had claimed was sensitive before, and Eve is going to have to be careful what she says from now on, if this is the merciless way that Villanelle treats new information of that kind.

Eve is on her back, and Villanelle is half on top of her, fingers in her hair and hips moving in a way specifically designed to kill her. 

Eve is on her back, until she decides that she doesn’t want to be, and Villanelle allows her to reverse their positions, and now Eve is _kissing_ , rather than being kissed, and taking… _god_ anything that Villanelle is offering her. Everything.

Eve finds Villanelle’s wrists on impulse, and drags them over her head, pressing them together and holding them down with one hand, in an echo of their last encounter. Villanelle chokes off what sounds like a moan, and then bites at Eve’s bottom lip with her teeth.

“Is this when you get really angry with me? Because… I could be into it.”

“Shut up” Eve says, refusing to be amused, and then just kisses her, and _god_ she could do this forever, she doesn’t want to do anything other than this forever- 

There’s a quick knock on the door, and then the door opens.

“Villanelle, sorry to- oh.”

Eve swears, and then sits up quickly, and jesus christ that’s Carolyn.

And here is Eve, straddling Villanelle, and fuck, _fuck._

Carolyn blinks once at Eve, and then says “Oh. Hello Eve.”

“Uh… hi” Eve manages. 

There’s a teetering half second, and then Carolyn looks back at Villanelle. Villanelle smiles.

“Hello?”

“Hello, sorry to interrupt, Fiona said you were up, and, uh, didn’t mention that you had a guest…” Villanelle rolls her eyes, and calls out loudly “Fiona you are a arsehole”

Through the doorway, Eve can hear Fiona respond with “Morning! By the way, these rooms aren’t soundproof, just an fyi.”

Jesus, Eve really need to be doing something other than straddling Villanelle. Carolyn coughs once, and then continues.

“Anyway, I was wondering if we could meet for brunch? Just to go through some last details… would in half an hour’s time be acceptable? Unless you… need more time to-”

Villanelle shrugs. 

“No, half an hour is fine. These rooms are apparently not sound proof so we may need to rethink a few things.”

“Righto” Carolyn says blandly, and then glances at Eve. “I expect we shall also do some catching up over brunch. Good to see you, Eve.”

…..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> yotoob.tumblr.com, @yotoob on twitter. yotoob on ko-fi for drinkies.
> 
> SPONSORED BY NEARLY THERE


	26. Pancakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, sorry about the month long gap. Maybe do some rereading to refresh?

Café Isobel sits on the edge of one of the few green spaces in the city. If Eve concentrates, she can just about block out all of the wider noise of the city, the thrum that comes from half a million people going about their business, and just see the way the sunlight bounces up from the surface of the canal to the trees that line it, illuminating their lower branches in a way that looks almost ethereal.

Carolyn and Villanelle sit next to each other on the other side of the table, exchanging what Eve can only categorise as ‘inane small talk’. They discuss the weather, the never-ending roadworks on the outskirts of Bruges, the difficulties of finding a good concierge…

Carolyn, it would seem, could keep this up all day. She is poker faced, entirely unflustered, and looks prepared to lead an hour long sermon on the various values between sugar cubes and sugar sachets, if that’s what it takes for the conversation to continue flowing. However, Villanelle is clearly struggling. Her tone is bored, and increasingly abrupt, and she shifts endlessly in her chair, as though trying to stay awake. Villanelle keeps flicking small glances towards Eve, and then shying away from her, seemingly unwilling to engage in anything as alarming as eye contact.

Eve watches them, stirring her coffee with tightly controlled fingers.

She’d already half established that Carolyn had been involved, somehow, in Villanelle’s infiltration of the security services. But seeing her here now… catching up with Villanelle like this is some kind of enforced office reunion, has Eve’s blood boiling.

Fiona nudges her elbow. “Pass the syrup, would you?”

Eve complies, and that’s another thing that has her on the verge of snapping. Fiona is here, heartily chewing on pancakes, seemingly oblivious to the various tensions of the table.

Eve clenches her fingers so hard on the teaspoon she wonders at what point it will bend. She clears her throat.

“Carolyn. Can you just… can we talk about real things, for a moment?”

Carolyn does make eye contact with her, easily, and then sits back in her chair. “Of course. I was just waiting for our other guests; saves repetition. Also, I wasn’t entirely sure how involved….everyone was…” Carolyn trails off, glancing between Fiona and Villanelle.

Villanelle shrugs. “Fiona knows everything.” 

Carolyn’s face betrays nothing. “And so… her ongoing role?”

“I like her” Villanelle says. “She will have further uses, and she wants to stay involved for a bit.”

Fiona struggles against a mouthful of pancake.

“I’m just… in it for the pancakes, you know. I honestly couldn’t care less about… whatever plots you will plot in the future. Just keep paying me and I will go where you need me to go.”

“Sure, shouty operas and such like” Villanelle grins as she says this, her eyes sliding over to Eve’s, who can’t help her eye roll in response.

Carolyn sighs a little, sounding impatient as Fiona shovels another forkful into her mouth. “But… why are you sitting with us here now? Could you not- be elsewhere?”

Fiona gestures at her plate as though Carolyn has gone mad, and the motion is so familiar to Eve already that she can’t help but snort a little. Villanelle really did copy Fiona completely.

“But I’m eating? And I already know enough to have us all thrown in jail, I’m not sure a few more secrets will do any harm.”

Carolyn grunts after a moment, and then nods. “Security through mutual vulnerability, I see. You stab my back, I’ll stab yours. Not my preferred method of trust, but… it’ll have to do.”

Eve folds her arms, suddenly bored of the way that Carolyn always seems to be the conductor in any given conversation.

“You knew from the start that Villanelle was Fiona?”

Carolyn glances at her, and then nods easily. 

“Of course. How else does this get set up? I knew. I had spotted Fiona’s likeness to Villanelle a while ago, when I had visited GCHQ. I had kept tabs on her, and when the necessity arose, I knew that there was an appropriate candidate for an identity swap. The Fiona on file was relocated to work directly beneath myself. The Fiona in real life was given the chance for an extremely luxurious early retirement, and Villanelle stepped into her place. The paper work needed no adjustments barring a tweaking of the staff photo, and that is apparently surprisingly straight-forward. Photoshop. Sounds terribly mundane, but it certainly got the job done.”

Eve takes a sip of her coffee, swallowing tightly, trying to control the rush of endorphins that she gets just from having some goddamn straight answers for once. 

“So all the meetings I had with you…. in which I was insisting that Fiona was Villanelle…”

“I was acting. Years in the secret service; I can do a reasonably good poker face. I had… strongly suggested that Villanelle gave you a wide berth, however that didn’t exactly work out.” This is delivered with a glare at Villanelle, who shrugs nonchalantly. 

“I didn’t want to listen to you. You cannot expect me to do all the things that you asked me to do and have _no_ outlet for fun.”

Eve taps on the table, reclaiming the conversation.

“Why didn’t you just fire me? Before Villanelle started? Wouldn’t that have been easier?”

Carolyn rolls her eyes, and then looks pointedly at Villanelle. “Yes. Infinitely. However when it was discussed-“

“I wouldn’t let them. I wouldn’t do it unless you were there to have fun with. I would have died from boredom otherwise. I was working my way down a list of targets, all very tidy killing, _you must be discreet Villanelle,_ blah blah, no fun no fun, being very inconspicuous. Watching you try to figure out Fiona was the only fun I was allowed to have.”

Eve glares at Villanelle, out of habit rather than necessity, and then turns back to Carolyn.

“How long have you been a traitor?”

Carolyn’s eyebrows flicker, and then she tilts her head as though acknowledging the accusation, if not agreeing with it.

“I’m not sure if I fully agree with your categorisation.”

Eve presses her point. “But you work for The Twelve?”

Carolyn folds her hands together on her lap. “I had, in the past. An outside contractor, now and then, you understand. And then I was coming up to retirement, and… the pensions of the civil service are not what they used to be, you see. And so, once I had reopened my contacts, it occurred to us that we could use my position for an act of substance.”

“Murdering the Home Secretary.”

“Yes.”

“So you betrayed your country.” Eve hates how… hysterical that sounds, but she doesn’t have another way to put it. Carolyn stares solemnly at her for a moment, and then nods her head.

“That very much depends on your interpretation of morality. Of betrayal. It was reasonably common knowledge that Secretary Hargreaves was due to make a leadership bid within a couple of years. What wasn’t common knowledge was the caliber of the man himself, and the circles he moved in. He wasn’t dirty per say, he had always been very careful in that regard, but… but there was enough on file for us to be aware of the circles he moved in, the views he secretly held. It would not have been good for the country, if he’d have become Prime Minister. The Twelve have their reasons for wanting… stable leadership.”

Eve grimaces, aware that what she is about to say sounds feeble. “You could have let the British public decide that. Let them judge his character.”

Carolyn chuckles slightly, and then says “Well… if we know anything, it is that the British public cannot always be trusted to make the sensible choice. So, we laid the ground work for his assassination… oh do not look at me like that Eve. I’ve had forty years in this business. Sometimes morality does not come in neat shades of black and white.”

Motive identified, Eve now tries to uncover method.

“It all feels a little bit… elaborate, for an assassination. Why couldn’t Villanelle have just…” Eve trails off, not sure how to put it. Villanelle helps out.

“What, wandered up to him in the street and stabbed him? I’m good, but I’m not that good… senior ministers like that have significant security details, two or three guards, and their homes are heavily monitored, difficult to get into. I could have killed him maybe, but I’d have been killed afterwards. The bodyguards are serious propositions. So we did it this way. It was Carolyn’s idea.”

Carolyn makes a small gesture, as though modestly waving away the accolade. Villanelle tuts her, and then says “No, no, it is true, you made a good plan. Simple. Effective. I had to kill off some of Hargreaves associates; no connections between them, but they were all known to Hargreaves. Wait until Hargreaves gets nervous, and comes to personally demand answers. When he is in MI5 his security automatically drops down to just one bodyguard because the building is secure government property. I wait until he arrives. I kill him in the building, and then disappear.”

“Well” Carolyn interrupts. “You didn’t kill him the first time he is in the building, because you are too busy…. toying with Eve. I had to get him back into the building the day after, most inconvenient.”

Villanelle shrugs. “What? I’d just arrived at the fun part with Eve, I didn’t want to kill him yet.”

Eve remembers sitting outside Carolyn’s office, telling Villanelle that she was in danger from herself, demanding that Carolyn place Villanelle in a safe house to protect her from herself…. she groans.

“I looked like a fucking idiot.”

“A bit” Villanelle shrugs happily. “But anyway, I kill Hargreaves the second time he is in the building, and the police immediately get busy looking for Fiona Lewis, but _surprise_ , she is no longer in the country. She is in Europe, eating her own body weight in pancakes.”

Fiona snorts.

“Listening to you self congratulate all over again, can you give it a rest-”

“Fuck you” Villanelle says easily. 

Eve places her finger tips at her temples, trying to rub away the tension.

“Okay… okay. So… I think I have it now, although there are still some questions I have-”

“By all means” Carolyn motions at Eve. “Nothing pleases me more than to have my motives questioned by a junior colleague.”

Eve glares at her. 

“Well, I don’t work for you any more, and I think you owe me a least a few questions considering you made me question my sanity for a few months-“

Fiona raises her hand in an abrupt greeting.

“Oh, hi you two, finally, now the waitress might come back to our table.”

Eve raises her eyes, and there is Konstantin, looking exactly the same as he did before. And there, next to him-

“What are… wait, are you fucking serious? What are _you_ doing here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> yotoob.tumblr.com, or @yotoob on twitter, or yotoob on the coffee place
> 
> SPONSORED BY SANDRA OH IN A JUMPSUIT


	27. Balance the Probabilities

Everyone seems to ignore Eve’s question. Konstantin grunts a generalised greeting at the table, and then picks up the menu with an abrupt gesture, inspecting it as he wordlessly pulls out a chair and sits down. Villanelle snorts at him after a moment.

“What, are you pretending that you aren’t just planning on ordering the biggest plate of food that they have? Plus one tiny coffee, thank you and please.”

Konstantin flaps a hand at her as through flicking at a fly, and then looks at Carolyn.

“Carolyn. Nice to see you. And…” Konstantin pitch changes slightly, almost becoming more level, as though trying to betray no emotion at all. “And… hello again Fiona.”

Fiona grins heartily at him, and her shoulders seem to quiver once in a repressed chuckle, before she waves a forkful of pancake at him in an airy greeting.

“Morning.”

All of this happens in the periphery of Eve’s vision, because she hasn’t stopped staring at Kenny.

Kenny. 

Kenny, who is staring back at Eve as though _she_ is the goddamn surprise. 

_Balance the probabilities_ Eve remembers, the fury howling inside.

Kenny manages to drag his gaze from Eve, and glances once at his mother for guidance. Carolyn is zero help, and now everyone at the table is looking at Kenny, waiting to see which way he’ll jump. 

“Um…” he manages, and then clears his throat. “Uh. Hello Eve. And- Fiona.” Kenny, for some foolish reason, directs this at Villanelle, even though it surely must be obvious to even the most dense person that they all well beyond that sort of shit.

Both Fiona and Villanelle snort with laughter at his greeting, and Villanelle points at Fiona. 

“No Kenny, _she’s_ Fiona, remember, you had that assignment of adjusting our photos? And then hacking in to alter all the relevant files so I could take her place? I don’t think you’ve met in person though… Kenny this is Fiona Lewis. She looks like me a bit, don’t you think?”

Fiona waves ironically, looking straight up gleeful.

“Hiya. Great job with the photoshop. Amazing.”

Kenny coughs once, and then colours like a boy who’s just been caught making Barbie dolls kiss.

“Oh, right, yeah, nice to meet you, I didn’t realise we were… I didn’t think this was happening.”

Carolyn sighs heavily at that, and then says “Well, it would appear that it is. Please don’t order anything too elaborate, everyone else has nearly finished their meal. And do sit down, will you, you’re making the place look untidy.”

Konstantin flags down a waitress, and places an abrupt order for fried eggs on toast, and then motions at Kenny.

“You, boy, what will it be? Speak…. say something will you… oh.. another fried egg on toast for him, thank you-”

Eve stares at Kenny.

Kenny clears his throat.

“Um-“

Carolyn cuts across him.

“Will you sit down, stop trying to make a spectacle- Eve, Kenny helped with a number of the elements of the arrangement, because I told him to. Now, if we can get on with-”

“You asshole.” Eve doesn’t quite mean to say it, is just sort of escapes. Kenny sits down, bright red. Carolyn nods once at Eve, as though her comment is perfectly reasonable and has been added to the minutes, and then clears her throat.

“Yes, thank you Eve, so, now that everyone is here, including Eve, it seems sensible to have some kind of reflection meeting to clear up any loose ends and identify what needs to happen moving forward-”

“You sat next to me, and you hummed and hawwed over Villanelle’s picture, and the three of us discussed to great length whether Fiona was Villanelle, and all this time you _knew?_ Oh fuck please don’t tell me that Elena is about to turn up, I will actually lose my mind…”

“Which one’s Elena?” Fiona asks distractedly, checking something on her phone. Villanelle answers.

“The other one who works with Eve.”

“Oh” says Fiona, and then glances at Eve “No, she doesn’t know.”

Eve could honestly flip the table, because this her _life_ for the past six months, and Fiona is casually keeping up with events as though tracking her third favourite soap opera?

She rounds on Kenny again, because he’s the only one who is looking at least a small percentage of the correct amount of apologetic.

“I mean, what the fuck? What the fuck? Your mother asks you to facilitate murder, and so you just… do it?”

Kenny looks to Carolyn for help, and then stammers “Yeah, that was- that was pretty much it.”

“What the fuck? What in the actual name of-”

“I was going to lose my job? And, this paid well, and then mum said she could sort me out with some decent references-”

“I thought I was _losing my fucking mind_ ” Eve hisses at him, “but sure, thank fuck for those references, that really puts a different spin on things- what the fuck are you grinning at?” This is directed at Villanelle, who has put her chin in her hands and is smiling at Eve as though utterly delighted.

“Oh, it’s just really fun to watch you be mad at someone else for once, you are so indignant, it is lovely.”

Konstantin interrupts.

“Huh, she didn’t take a drink order from me, will they just guess I wanted a coffee with that?”

“Yeah, probably” says Fiona, glancing over her shoulder at the serving station, “but I’ll try and catch their eye, hang on-”

“This is all such bullshit” Eve says flatly, and then slaps the palms of her hands on the table in frustration, so that they all look at her.

“This is _bullshit_ ” she repeats. “It’s bullshit, and fucked up, and… I’d expect it from you” she motions at Villanelle dismissively, and then at Konstantin “and you seem like you have form, but you three… you killed someone? And… now we are having brunch? And that is _okay?_ ”

Kenny stares blankly at her, and then says “But I just altered some data and tweaked some photos. I didn’t kill him.”

“Mmmph” says Fiona, who is somehow _still_ eating a damn pancake. “No, I didn’t kill… I was in Paris. Hanging out, you know.”

Carolyn clears her throat. “I had a part in his death. But I have explained the moral logic behind it, and my conscience is reasonably untroubled by it. But it is interesting to me that the individual who definitely did kill Hargreaves is also the person that you are most keen to forgive. You looked to be in a fairly forgiving mood, this morning.”

Now Eve is blushing.

“No, but, that’s different… I knew that Villanelle killed him, that’s just what she does, but for you guys-”

Carolyn taps her chin thoughtfully. “So it isn't the _murder_ per say that you have a problem with, so much as whether you were deceived by us.”

“No, it… you three have normal lives. Had normal lives. But you just… threw it all away to commit murder? You chose to get involved in this? Just for a change of scene?”

Villanelle answers.

“You had a normal life. And then you started chasing me.”

“So?”

“So… you have also chosen to be involved in this.”

“I was a professional tracking down a killer.” 

Fiona scoffs at that. “You were… okay, I wasn’t there, but from what I’ve heard… you were not behaving very professionally.”

It’s too much, all of a second. All five of them sit there staring at her, as though Eve has lost her head for having some reservations about the scale of the conspiracy she has suddenly found herself involved in. She takes a deep, steadying breath, focusing on levelling out her voice so as to not reveal how close she is to crying.

“I just want… I would like my life to be normal again.”

There is a weighty silence.

And then Villanelle whispers “That’s a lie.”

Eve explodes.

“You don’t… get to tell me _what I want_ , you don’t even _know me_ \- jesus christ…. fuck this. _Fuck you all.”_

“Eve-”

“ _No_ Carolyn, fuck off, I am through with all of this shit, enjoy your fucking eggs Kenny.”

…..

It feels good, storming out of the café, every eye on her.

It fact it feels so good, Eve carries on storming down the street, and down another street, and then down another one.

But slowly, because she can’t hide from this forever, Eve has to face up to the fact that she has no idea where she is meant to go next. 

What the hell is she meant to do _now?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, commenting, kudos, etc. Sorry I'm a bit behind on answering your comments, I do cherish each one!
> 
> yotoob.tumblr.com or @yotoob on twitter (join me for EXCEEDINGLY high brow discourse on such topics as 'is betty gilpin haunted?', and 'where the fuck is betty?', and 'when will betty gilpin pin me against the wall with her forearm to my throat and tell me to stop bothering her IT'S WHAT I DESERVE?') Also, yo, buy me a coffee if you wanna.
> 
> SPONSORED BY THE INNER BEES


	28. Run Away

After another half hour of pacing around Bruges, feeling out of sorts and lonely, Eve realises that she hasn’t got a choice about what she can do now.

Her bag is in Fiona and Villanelle’s hotel suite. Which means her passport is in Fiona and Villanelle’s hotel suite. And that means that Eve has to go and get it.

There literally isn’t a sigh in the world that is big enough, so Eve just does the best that she can, and then turns on her heel to retrace her steps.

Fucking…assholes. Every single one of them. Eve is going to go home, find Elena, and run that bookshop with her, because surely the levels of intrigue and subterfuge must be lower in the paperback industry.

Eve hates being wrong. Hates it with a passion. Which is why this is so frustrating, because she had been _right_ , she had known that ‘Fiona’ was Villanelle, but unbeknownst to Eve, she had kept on reporting her findings to the person who had masterminded putting Villanelle in the building in the first place. 

She keeps seeing Carolyn’s passive face, as Eve had had a full nervous breakdown in her office over Villanelle’s presence. Carolyn hadn’t even… christ she’s so annoyed.

Eve stomps into the hotel foyer, and after a few exchanges with the man on the front desk, accepts she can’t get into the hotel suite without Villanelle or Fiona.

Fuck. Fuck everything. Including this annoying man’s silly hat.

“Very well. I will wait.”

……

It’s probably good to have a bit of time to calm down.

Everyone else who passes through the foyer looks to be having a normal time. They’re tourists, on a city break, doing normal things. Shopping bags and maps and cameras and such like. 

Eve cannot remember the last time she felt like she was having a normal day. She couldn’t even touch normal with a ten foot run up.

And…. huh. She’s feeling…. slightly smug about that.

Everyone else here is doing the usual things today. Nobody else in this foyer has had brunch with an international assassin and their entourage. That’s… kind of cool, Eve concedes. 

Although the big picture is obviously that she is still furious with all of them, but… it’s kind of cool.

And at least she’s got more of a handle on what Villanelle has been doing all this time. That’s in the plus column as well. 

Trust Carolyn to hit the nail on the end though, because Eve had been feeling the most forgiving towards Villanelle. Because…. that’s what Villanelle does. She kills people. And Eve has had over a month to get to grip with Villanelle’s deception, _and_ has had the opportunity to make out with her. That all seems to help.

_“I could be yours? If you want me…”_

The offer plays around Eve’s head, and if she closes her eyes she can see the flicker or concern that passes over Villanelle’s face as she says this, as though this is several shades more vulnerable that Villanelle is comfortable being.

 _If you want me…”_ What does Eve even want?

If her very existence for the last couple of years has been defined by the mystery of Villanelle… (Who is she? Where is she? Is she still alive? Is Fiona Villanelle? How did she manage that? What does she kiss like? What does she taste like?)… well then, now that Eve has reached the end of that list, so to speak- what is she supposed to do now?

It’s an uncomfortable thought. Victory means a loss of objective, a loss of drive…

Fiona appears, and thank god, because Sartre would have killed to know the levels of existential despair that Eve is currently experiencing.

Fiona smiles at her amicably, and motions her to follow with a quick flick of her hand.

“Come on then”

…..

Just as the elevator judders to a halt, Fiona clears her throat.

“So, the good news is that Villanelle has told Carolyn and Konstantin that they aren’t allowed to have you killed.”

Eve watches the elevator doors slide open. The light on the other side is almost blinding.

“They aren’t going to…. why would they have me killed? Because I walked out on the breakfast bill?”

Fiona side eyes her once, and then shakes her head with a half laugh. “Umm, _no_ , although you do owe me ten euros. No, they’d have you killed because you now know everything that has happened, and you seemed angry enough to contact the authorities.”

Eve feels her pulse rate quicken, as her heart frantically tries to find an escape route.

“But… but… I’m not going to contact the authorities. I mean, christ, I couldn’t prove anything, and even if they do believe me the person most likely to get thrown in jail is Villanelle, and then probably me, and-”

“And you’ve already forgiven Villanelle?”

“Well-” Eve throws her hands up in the air, caught off balance “Well. She… it’s just- Villanelle killing someone has been the least surprising part of _all_ of this, for me. So-”

Fiona waves away Eve attempt to explain why murder is okay in her books, as long as it is _predictable_ murder.

“It’s okay. Anyway, Villanelle just announced, straight after you left the café, that they aren’t allowed to have you killed. So, I don’t know if they’d have actually considered it, but it is definitely off the table if they want to keep Villanelle on side. So. That’s good, I guess.”

Eve sits on the couch, her legs suddenly unsteady. That _is_ good, she supposes, feeling entirely hollow.

Fiona looks at her for a moment, and then appears to lose interest. She heads to her bedroom, and through the doorway Eve can see her pulling a small suitcase out of her wardrobe.

“They’re all still talking about next moves, new jobs, you know. So Villanelle won’t be back for a while. But I have to pack. There is a train back to Paris in a bit, and I have a date.”

Eve kicks at her brain.

“Why… why are you all in Bruges anyway?”

“Oh, Konstantin had business here, which meant they all had to come. I came because I wanted to. Villanelle was okay with me tagging along, probably because she wanted to mess with your head one last time.”

“Or let you explain some of it” Eve adds, defending Villanelle for some ridiculous reason. Fiona makes a noncommittal noise, and then says “Yeah, sure. Maybe.”

There’s a silence, interrupted only by the sounds of Fiona opening drawers, and pulling items of clothing from hangers. 

Eve sits back on the couch, unsure what to do next. 

_Does_ she know enough to have them all thrown in jail. Well, yes, she knows enough. But can she prove it? No, probably not. 

But does she know enough for the police to start asking uncomfortable questions, particularly of Carolyn, who surely is too high profile to disappear completely? Yes, undeniably.

Eve doesn’t know if Carolyn would have green lighted Eve’s murder. But she is grateful for Villanelle’s unspoken protection. 

Fiona sticks her head around the door frame, and raises her eyebrows at Eve.

“I thought you were just here to pick up your bag?” she says, knowingly. 

“I…yes. That is why I am here.”

“And then you are going? Back to London, case closed, never see any of us again?”

Eve glares at her, and then gestures Fiona back into her room.

“You just… concentrate on your own agenda.”

Fiona snorts, and then disappears again. Eve stands up, and makes her way into Villanelle’s room.

She doesn’t make eye contact with the bed. 

Her case is small, and packed with only enough things for two days in Bruges. Which means that when she left London it was with every intention of returning home today, and yet…

_“I could be yours? If you want me…”_

She doesn’t want to go yet. This isn't _finished_. The mystery is gone, but she and Villanelle… they aren’t _finished_.

Fiona starts speaking again.

“You okay in there?”

Eve huffs out a laugh. 

“I mean. I guess. I’m just… god I’m so jealous of you. You get to start a brand new life, no responsibilities, no ties, just you and whatever you want to do, and I… I need to find a new job, and figure out how I’m supposed to afford to stay alive, and just… go back to normal?”

There’s a confused pause, and then Fiona says “Has Villanelle not told you about her fee for the Hargreaves job?”

Eve rolls her eyes.

“No, probably because she knew I wouldn’t be interested in hearing about how much money she earns every time she kills someone and fucks my life up…”

Fiona snorts, and comes into Villanelle’s room. She leans on the doorframe.

“No, you don’t get it. She didn’t get paid anything. She wanted a different fee.”

“Yeah?” Eve asks, curious. Fiona nods.

“She wanted the way cleared for you to run away from your life, if you wanted. New documents, new passport, a bank account with money… you can do what I’m doing, if you’d like.”

Eve doesn’t know how to react.

“I…what?”

“Yeah, it’s what Kenny has been working on these last few weeks. So you don’t have to go back to normal, if you don’t want to.”

Eve’s brain is curiously blank of emotions. They all feel far off, rushing towards her from an impossible distance, too vague to be identified.

She sits on the bed.

“Oh.”

Fiona grins. “Yeah. Oh. Lots to think about, I guess. Anyway, I’m done, so I’ll leave you to it. It was nice to meet you, finally. Safe journey, which ever way you end up going.”

…..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, commenting, kudos, etc. You are all delightful.
> 
> @yotoob on twitter, yotoob.tumblr.com, yotoob on ko-fi (DANCING WITH DEATH HERE)
> 
> SPONSORED BY MY BLATANT THEFT OF A LINE WRITTEN BY GUARDIAN CORRESPONDENT JOHN CRACE RECENTLY, SORRY JOHN


	29. Invitation

Eve sits on the couch for another hour.

She isn’t waiting for Villanelle, exactly. And she knows that she sounds like a broken record, but…. they aren’t _finished_.

She watches the shadows that move across the room as the day tips slowly from morning to afternoon. Outside she can hear shouts of market sellers, trying to exchanges goods for money in the cool day’s breeze. 

It’s all very normal, very mundane. Eve struggles to imagine what her life could be like now. 

There’s a frustration, boiling away inside her, but she can’t figure out the shape of it, she can’t figure out what would fix it…

The elevator hums, and then the doors slide open into motion. And then Villanelle is in the room, looking for all the world like _this_ is her normal, like she frequently returns home to find Eve waiting for her.

“Hello” Eve says, because she can’t just _launch_ into her frustrations without some kind of run up. Villanelle smiles slightly at her, and then shrugs off her coat, lifting it to hang on the hooks at the side of the entrance.

“Hi” she says simply, and then waits. Eve, god help her, rushes to fill the air with conversation.

“You… um. Did you enjoy your breakfast?”

Villanelle blows her cheeks out briefly, actually seems to consider the question. “Mmm - parts of it. Earlier parts. It was dull, after you had gone. Much discussion of objectives, and suchlike. I didn’t really need to be there, but Fiona had suggested that you might want some space, so I pretended that I was being diligent. Konstantin is pleased with me.”

Eve smoothes over her annoyance at being viewed as entertainment, and instead allows her curiosity about Villanelle’s new friendship to get the better of her.

“You trust Fiona.” It’s almost a question. Villanelle shrugs.

“Yes. In some things. In. Um. In being, you know…” Villanelle waves her hands around, inarticulate. “Normal. Normal interactions with people who I want to like me. She is very good at dating, Fiona.”

Eve snorts abruptly, because of all of Eve’s impressions of Fiona, ‘normal’ isn’t even in the top ten.

“I’m not sure Fiona would count as normal by most people’s standards.”

Villanelle stares blankly at her, and then shrugs, and half gestures at herself.

“Well. I am not most people.”

Eve feels her eyes widen.

“No shit, that was confirmed when you spent nearly half a year pretending to be someone else just to fuck with me.”

“Oh no, that is not entirely true. I mean. It was for a job as well.” Villanelle grins at her, as though Eve near total breakdown was all just a bit of a joke. Eve glares at her.

“Yeah. Fiona told me about your payment for the Hargreaves task, by the way.”

“Oh?” Villanelle looks abashed, shy even. “Oh. I did not know she was going to tell you about that.”

Suddenly, with the inspiration of lightening, Eve realises when she is so annoyed. “You can’t just _buy_ me like that.”

Villanelle blinks, confused. “What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me, you know _what_. You can’t just…. destroy my life, and then give me an escape route that I _have_ to follow. That’s…. you can’t force me to run away with you. That’s not okay, I’m not going to just run away with you because you’ve found me a new fucking passport-”

Villanelle interrupts her, hands spread wide.

“There’s money as well? I don’t know what the prob-”

“You can’t buy me, I’m not for sale!”

Villanelle pulls a face, and then points a finger at Eve. “Are you shouting at me?”

Eve hesitates and then says “Yes? Obviously?”

“Oh” Villanelle puts her hands on her hips, and stares at Eve for a moment, head tilted to one side. And then she wordlessly disappears into her bedroom.

Eve follows her, eternally exasperated that this is always what she ends up doing.

Villanelle tosses her bag onto the bed, and gestures at it vaguely.

“It is in there. Passport, documentation required to access the bank account, all the necessary. You can figure it out I am sure, you are very smart. And you can do whatever you want with it. You don’t have to… I am not trying to ‘keep’ you, or whatever. It has gotten boring, your fight.”

“Boring?” Eve is affronted. Villanelle sighs, and then sits on the bed, slipping off her shoes.

“Yes… I-” Villanelle stops, mumbles something in what sounds like French, and then carries on “My ego is not immune to rejection, I am not a robot. I would like you to like me, very much. But if you don’t like me… I do not want you _if_ you are always angry to be with me. If you feel trapped. I had that with Anna, and I did not enjoy it by the end.”

Eve is silent. Villanelle gestures at the bag again.

“It’s all in there. Take it if you want. And then you can go and do whatever you want. It’s not enough money forever, but it’ll probably last a year before you have to start earning. Maybe more, if you are careful with it.”

“And then… you’d let me go?”

Villanelle looks momentarily lost, and then her shoulders drop. She rubs a hand across her face, frustrated.

“You are not a prisoner - I didn’t _force_ you to come here. I didn’t _force_ you to sleep in my bed last night. I didn’t _force_ you to kiss me this morning. You are in charge of your choices. So- I am going to shower. Do whatever the fuck you want to do. But please stop pretending you aren’t already doing whatever the fuck you want to do; it is rude.”

……

Villanelle showers with the door open.

Of course she does, of course she does….

It’s just another invitation, Eve fumes, sitting on the bed next to the bag that contains everything she needs to walk away and never come back. 

It’s just another invitation, another offer to Eve. _Here, take this if you want it. Take your new life if you want it. Take me in the shower if you want to, take-_.

God, she does want to. She wants…

If she moved a foot to her left, Eve could probably watch Villanelle as she showers. But she’s not… Eve sits resolutely on the bed, proving nothing to no one except that she still has some measure of self restraint.

They haven’t _finished_ yet.

When the shower clicks off, Eve’s breath catches in her throat.

There’s a small pause, and then Villanelle returns to the bedroom, towel wrapped around her chastely and another towel in her hand, patting her damp hair free of drips. She raises her eyebrows at Eve, inscrutable.

“You are still here.”

Eve gulps, and nods.

“Yes. But I am going to take the bag. The passport and money. Thank you.”

Villanelle nods, and then says nothing.

And Eve… is still sitting on the bed, staring at her.

After a moment, Villanelle’s lips quirk.

“You are _still_ here.”

“Yes” Eve manages, nearly choking on the words. Villanelle looks at her.

“Why are you still here, if you do not want to be?”

“I-” Eve finds words suddenly difficult. “It just… feels like we aren’t finished yet.”

“When will we be finished?”

“When… jesus please don’t make me say it.”

Villanelle smiles slightly, and approaches her, dropping the towel from her hand and then reaching out to Eve’s face. She runs certain fingers along the line of Eve’s jaw, and then across her neck, as though cutting her throat.

She’s so close. The towel wrapped around her body is white, innocent.

Eve closes her eyes.

“Mmm, no, I think I’m going to make you say it.” Villanelle is smiling at her when Eve opens her eyes again, enjoying Eve’s reluctance.

Eve clears her throat, aware of how weak she looks.

“We, um. We will be finished… when you…”

“Yes?”

Eve closes her eyes again.

“When you fuck me.”

There’s a silence. Villanelle’s fingers stop in their motion, and rest at the point just where Eve’s neck becomes her chest.

Eve waits to be kissed, but it never comes.

“Oh- kay… and what is in it for me?”

Villanelle is positively grinning at Eve by now. Eve frowns at her, confused.

“What do you mean?” Villanelle shrugs, which does perilous things to the security of her towel.

“Well, by that logic, I could make you stay forever, as long as I never… fuck you.”

Eve blinks, and then suddenly finds that she’s almost on the verge of laughing.

“I think that scenario might be giving too much credit to your self restraint…”

Villanelle snorts, and then says “Yes, you are probably right-” before pulling Eve’s face towards her own, and kissing her, hard.

…..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, kudos, commenting, etc. It is lovely.
> 
> @yotoob on twitter. yotoob.tumblr.com.
> 
> SPONSORED BY FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS AND MY WEAKNESS FOR JOY. ALSO DECAF TEABAGS. ALSO WEIRD ASS BETTY GILPIN STANS ON TWITTER. YOU PICK.


	30. The Unlocked Door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nsfw (NOT THAT SOME OF YOU LOT EVER SEEM TO PAY ATTENTION TO THE WARNINGS)

Villanelle is kissing her neck.

There’s a great deal that is happening at the moment; a lot of skin, and a lot of warmth, and a number of noises, most of which are coming from Eve’s mouth.

But… Villanelle is kissing her neck. Eve thinks if she can just hold on to that, the rest… might not be so overwhelming.

Villanelle is basically naked on top of her, though the towel is still valiantly doing it’s bit for public decency. Eve is aware that she has hands, that she could technically do something about Villanelle’s towel, but-

It’s somehow even more scandalous, to have her hands at the tops of Villanelle’s thighs, to be sliding them higher one skin cell at a time, until they are _underneath_ the towel, and at Villanelle’s hips, and-

Villanelle gasps slightly, and then she moves her mouth, and bites at Eve’s earlobe.

“Don’t” she says, and Eve digs her fingers into the skin of Villanelle’s hips, because if she would just move her hips-

Villanelle hisses at her, and then sits up, grabbing at Eve’s wrists and stilling them. 

“I said don’t.”

Eve blinks heavily, as blinded by the sudden loss of contact as she would be if Villanelle was the sun.

“But… why?” She almost sounds petulant, a child denied. Villanelle frowns at her, as though Eve is missing a very serious point.

“Because it is my turn. You had me, in that safe house in Bromwich. You had me, and I didn’t touch you. So now… no touching me. I want to be able to concentrate, and I can’t concentrate if you are touching me.”

Eve nearly gapes at her, and then is almost smiling, because-

“I’m not sure that being too dogmatic about taking turns is a good idea; or what, do you want me to draw up a rota?”

Villanelle shrugs. “If you would like. But it is my turn, not yours.”

“This is ridiculous, I’m still fully clothed and you are… not wearing anything, how on earth am I supposed to keep from touching you-”

Villanelle covers Eve’s mouth with one hand, and undoes her towel with the other hand, letting it drop to the floor.

“I am expecting that it will be very difficult for you. I am _hoping_ that it will be very difficult for you. Now stay still.”

“Oh _jesus_.”

…..

She doesn’t touch Villanelle with her hands. 

But- as Villanelle undresses her, as she reveals more and more of Eve’s skin-

She might not be touching Villanelle with her hands, but there’s a lot of contact happening right now.

Eve gasps when Villanelle lies on top of her, and there are no clothes left now, and no secrets, and Eve is surprised at how much she _still_ wants Villanelle, even without the incentive of secrets.

At some point, quite soon, she muses, Eve is going to have to face up to the fact that this isn’t just intrigue, this isn’t just a dark curiosity. This is more than that, it’s more, it’s more…

Villanelle pushes herself up on her elbows, and looks down at Eve. Eve has to bite her lips to avoid moaning too hard, because the contact now is _different_ and _better_ and if Carolyn comes in now Eve is just going to have to murder her.

“I have thought about this a lot” Villanelle says, matter of factly. Eve opens her mouth to reply, but then Villanelle rocks her hips down into Eve’s and Eve forgets how to talk.

 _Fuck it feels so good,_ there should be some kind of law against-

Villanelle drops her head down, and tongues over Eve’s breasts, and Eve is going to need Villanelle to hurry the fuck up because there is a very real chance that Eve will come without being touched in any meaningful way at all.

“Have you thought about it too?”

“Yes, _jesus,_ all the time-”

“Do I touch you like this, when you imagine?”

“Fuck, yes, please just-” Eve rocks her own hips upwards into Villanelle’s, unable to control herself, and Villanelle smiles, looking satisfied.

“What else do I do, when you imagine?”

Eve is going to pass out.

“You do what I tell you to do, so please-”

“What do you want me to do?”

“ _God_ , stop talking and just fucking touch me, will you?”

Villanelle grins, and then drops her head again, biting gently at Eve’s breasts. And then she rearranges, and one of her hands is dropping lower, until-

Eve tips her head back, and moans.

“Like this?”

“Fuck, _fuck_ , don’t stop-”

…..

Afterwards-

“I don’t want you to leave. I want you to stay.” Villanelle mumbles this into the skin of Eve’s neck. 

“Well” Eve says stoutly, still trying to get her breathing under control and reorder her sanity, “I am going to leave.”

“Why?”

Eve struggles for an answer, and doesn’t say anything for a long while. Because what is the answer? To prove a point? To test Villanelle’s assertions that Eve can make that choice? That Villanelle will leave her alone? 

_You are not a prisoner…_

Eve remembers the philosopher John Locke, who suggested that the concept of human free will could be understood by considering a prisoner in a cell, who believes the unlocked door is actually locked. And so the prisoner never tries to open the door, never identifies their own freedom, and stays feeling trapped and helpless forever.

She’s going to try the damn door if it kills her. She has to _know_.

Villanelle presses her lips to Eve’s neck, to her face, and then buries her face in Eve’s hair.

“I will miss you.”

Eve’s heart is forcing its way up her throat, trying to allow all her emotions escape.

“Yeah.”

“Will you come back?”

“Maybe” Eve finds herself saying. _Probably_ she thinks.

Villanelle must sense the hesitation, must sense the ‘probably’, because she lifts her head up again, and smiles softly. Her lips are swollen, there’s a flush on her cheeks, and her hair is becoming slightly wavy, as it dries unattended. The whole image is as charming as it is positively indecent.

“You could stay a _little_ bit longer, if you would like to?”

“Well… that would-” Villanelle seems to abruptly lose some self control, because she nudges towards Eve, and presses her mouth gently to Eve’s lips, as though presenting Eve with a gift. Eve kisses her, and Villanelle’s lips part, and she tastes of… god. Everything that Eve has ever wanted.

“Sorry” Villanelle whispers against her lips, after a moment. “What were you saying?”

“We can’t conduct a conversation if you keep kissing me in the middle of every sentence.”

“Mmmpfh, well sure, it might be slower. But… oh. You just looked so lovely.”

Eve bites her lip, and them smiles softly. “I was saying that I could stay for a little while longer. But only if…”

Villanelle kisses her again, and Eve is almost laughing.

“Will you…stop-”

“No” Villanelle says blandly, barely removing her mouth from Eve’s. “No I will not. What were you saying?”

Eve sighs, and then traces her fingers over Villanelle’s cheekbone.

“I will stay but only if I can touch you-”

Villanelle sighs, and then takes Eve’s hand, pressing it lower.

“Oh god - _please_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, kudos, and feedback
> 
> @yotoob on twitter, yotoob.tumblr.com, and yotoob in the coffee place
> 
> SPONSORED BY HOWEVER MANY DAYS IT IS UNTIL SEASON TWO


	31. Ends

Eve finds that she doesn’t travel to places. 

She _ends up_ in places.

Of course, from a practical point of view, there’s no difference. Here she is in Florence, and now Oslo, and now the Cotswolds, and now Istanbul. She is present. She has arrived. The descriptors of her arrival are not relevant.

Eve is living exactly how she wants to. She goes where she wants, she does what she wants, she has no responsibilities, no worries, no unanswered questions about annoying assassins…

This is the dream, or at least it is supposed to be. Eve stays in pleasant enough hotels, eats pleasant food, takes in views she thought she would never see with her own eyes.

If only she could stop feeling like she _ends up_ in places.

…..

She sleeps with a couple of people.

It’s like Villanelle has somehow reminded Eve that she does have permission to be attractive, because it isn’t that hard to find willing volunteers. 

In Amsterdam she sleeps with a man, who treats her well, and it seems to be a generally satisfying encounter all around. Eve doesn’t regret it, but neither does she do anything to prolong it. His name is Damien. He seems nice enough, and is the type of man that she used to go for; tall, lean, and unassuming. He apologises frequently, although Eve isn’t entirely sure what for.

In Madrid she sleeps with a woman, Marie, and that is an altogether more confusing encounter, and only partly because Marie speaks no English and Eve’s mastery of the Spanish extends to ordering a beer and no further.

She doesn’t know what kind of point she is proving.

This woman is…. not Villanelle. She has dyed blonde hair, and there’s a certain Spanish abruptness to her manners which reminds Eve of Villanelle’s unrepentant rudeness. 

But she’s shorter, and nothing like as engaging, and Eve doesn’t feel that rush when they touch, doesn’t feel that overwhelming victory when the woman moans, and leans into her, wanting more.

They get there, eventually. Eve’s imagination has to work over time, but they get there.

Marie is nothing like Villanelle, Eve decides, as though coming to a brand new conclusion as she lies in bed next to her. Nothing at all like her. 

Eve misses her.

…..

It’s been six months, give or take.

Eve hasn’t heard from Villanelle at all.

She hasn’t heard _of_ her either, although Eve is barely doing anything to try and keep tabs on her.

Every now and then, Eve will check in with the media’s coverage of the Hargreaves case. A few months before, one of the members of his security team had been taken in for questioning, but that seems to have fizzled out.

The audacity of it is incredible, but it seems that Villanelle’s half year performance of Fiona really did get the job done. All they needed to pull off the perfect murder was to find a near perfect doppelgänger of Villanelle who happened to work in the security services and had such a dismissive attachment to her own reality that she was happy to drop it all for a chance to start again…

Eve snorts thinking about Fiona, because, really? What are the odds? But that just seems to be the way Villanelle rolls, improbable moment after improbable moment, never noticing her luck…

Eve smiles wistfully to herself, finishes her espresso, and waves at the server in gratitude as she leaves.

…..

She keeps ‘ending up’ in places. 

Eve knows why she thinks of it in that way. It’s because ‘ending up’ suggests that she was taken there against her own will, a prisoner to other people’s wishes.

She wants to go in the other direction, _towards_ Villanelle, rather than away.

Soon, Eve realises, leaning on the handrail of a ferry. She’s on an island crossing service between one of the Canary Islands to the other. She’s looking a riot of impossible blue, the spray of the sea catching her face every now and then.

She’ll be going back soon.

…..

When nine months rolls around, Eve ends up visiting Elena.

“Eve- _shit_ , hello, god it’s so good to see you…”

…..

Somehow Elena really did manage to find herself bookshop to run, down a backstreet in Islington.

“Oh, well, I don’t _own_ it. It’s in the family - my sister’s husband… his parents were looking to semi retire, and they’ve let me… I mean my salary is basically just a cough into an envelope, but it’s enough to keep me going, until-”

“Until the bookshop impulse dies?” Eve grins at her momentarily, before returning her eyes back to the book she’s considering. Elena gasps in a kind of mock outrage, but then agrees.

“Yeah, I guess. Although this is a pretty good way to live - I basically sit under this blanket all day drinking tea. I’m writing a book, although who isn’t these days-”

Eve smiles a little, and then says “I’m not. I’ll read your book, your reports always had a certain dramatic flair-”

“Shut uppp” Elena laughs, and then falls quiet. Eve puts the book back on the shelf, and picks up another distractedly, before turning to Elena.

“Is there a travel section?”

“Uh, yeah, just over there.”

Elena is quiet for a moment, and Eve can hear her taking a couple of sips of tea from her mug. And then she clears her throat.

“So, um. What are you doing, if you aren’t writing a book?”

Eve shrugs. 

“Just… you know. Pottering about Europe basically. I figured I wouldn’t get a better opportunity to have a sabbatical.”

If Elena is curious about how Eve is funding this, she doesn’t say anything. Eve finds what she is looking for, and brings it over to Elena. Elena frowns at the book.

“A guidebook of…Liverpool?”

“I thought I might go and visit” Eve says blandly. Elena stares at her.

“Did you ever hear from her again?”

And Eve… realises that she can’t tell the truth to Elena any more. Not if she wants to be able to stop ‘ending up’ in places, but rather just be where she wants to be. 

“No. Typical.”

Elena glances at the guidebook again, and then back up at Eve. She raises her eyebrows, and then shrugs, with half a smile playing around her mouth.

“Yeah? Oh well. Hope you enjoy Liverpool, anyway. Come visit again. And keep in touch.”

“I will” Eve replies, truthfully.

Maybe one day she’ll tell Elena the truth. 

But not today.

…..

She visits Bill’s grave.

In fact, she has lunch there, sitting on a bench near his grave and unwrapping the sandwich she’d brought from a nearby Tesco Metro.

Eve remembers tupperware boxes, neatly filled with sushi, and Disney karaoke sung from the fucking heart. 

She’s not going to starting talking out loud to him, she’s not-

 _You were right,_ she thinks. _I probably should have lost my job long before I did._

Eve remembers Bill smirking at her, as Eve reels off what could only have been described as a love letter to Villanelle’s appearance to a police officer.

_You were right. And I wish you weren’t dead._

But… even here, next to Bill’s grave, she still wants to go to Villanelle.

So maybe Eve should stop clinging to her self image of the rational one, the normal one… because nobody should want that, and yet she _does_.

And so the only comfort available to Eve is the fact that Bill would be utterly unsurprised by any of her choices.

And he would probably be slightly amused by the whole thing, she decides.

…..

She books a ticket to Paris. Because Eve is done with _ends_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading
> 
> @yotoob on twitter, or yotoob.tumblr.com 
> 
> SPONSORED BY I CAN'T BELIEVE I HAVE WRITTEN A 45K FIC ON THE BASIS OF ONE TWENTY MINUTE TWITTER CONVERSATION THIS IS RIDICULOUS
> 
> the next chapter is the final one.


	32. Afterwards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An ending.

Eve has a momentary hesitation, in the arrival’s terminal, when she realises that actually, she doesn’t know where Villanelle is living these days.

She doesn’t even know if Villanelle would still be in Paris.

But… this doesn’t feel like the start of another endless manhunt. Villanelle will be waiting for her. That’s just the way this is going to be. They’re done hiding from each other. 

Eve heads for the same building, the same apartment that she found Villanelle in the first time. 

Part of Eve expects to discover that Villanelle has left a treasure hunt for her. An elaborate series of clues, requiring Eve to haul her ass around Paris for a couple of days, just as a final riposte, a final _look at how much you want me, isn’t that funny?_

What she doesn’t expect, at all, is for Villanelle to open the door, wearing-

“Oh. Oh! Hello Eve.”

“Hi, I-” Eve blinks. “What on earth are you wearing?”

Villanelle looks down at herself, and then tugs at the hem of the shirt slightly.

“Oh, it is… this is a football shirt. Um. Everton. I don’t like it, this blue is a _bad_ colour for me…”

“Then why-”

Another voice calls through the apartment.

“Is that the food?”

Villanelle rolls her eyes, and calls over her shoulder “No. It’s Eve.”

There’s a pause, and then Fiona says “Oh, cool. Eve do you have any food?”

“Uh, no?”

Fiona sounds like she sighs a little bit, and then says abruptly “oh, come _on_ , that’s blatantly a foul?” 

Eve realises that she can hear the vague sounds of a football match. She raises her eyebrows at Villanelle.

“Fiona still lives with you?”

Villanelle shakes her head, and then gestures vaguely past Eve. “No, she has a place a couple of streets away. But she comes here to watch football because apparently the streaming signal is better in my flat…. I don’t know, I think she just likes to inflict it upon me.”

Eve stares at her for long moment, and then says “Can I come in?”

Villanelle starts, as though called back to reality.

“Yes, of course.”

…..

Fiona is wearing a Liverpool shirt. Eve blinks at the redness of it in confusion, and then says “You support Liverpool?” by way of greeting. Fiona nods distractedly, barely removing her gaze from the match on the screen. Eve frowns, and then looks at Villanelle. 

“Then why are you wearing an Everton-”

Fiona and Villanelle say “because she’s a dickhead” and “because I’m a dickhead” in cheerful unison. Villanelle motions at the couch, smiling at Eve.

“Would you like to sit down? And um. Can I get you a drink? And pizza is supposed to be arriving soon…”

“Oh, um, thank you… just a water for me.” Villanelle nods, and scurries off into the kitchen as though anxious for a positive trip advisor review. Fiona snorts slightly, and then glances at Eve, mischief playing in her eyes.

“Don’t mind me.”

Eve sits back on the couch, trying and failing to smile back at her.

Fucking Fiona.

…..

There’s a solid thirty minutes of this damn football match left. The pizza sits in front of them, eaten by Fiona and Fiona only.

But Eve finds that she is less and less irritated, because Villanelle has curled up on the couch next to her, personal space well and truly and wonderfully invaded. She doesn’t even make a pretence at being interested in the football match, and after a long moment of just watching Eve’s profile, Villanelle puts her head on Eve’s shoulder.

“I missed you” she murmurs. 

Eve feels herself sigh, a sigh that she might have been holding on to for nine months. She tips her head towards Villanelle’s.

“Yeah” she says. “I missed you too.”

“Are you going to stay?”

Eve smiles.

“I’d like to. If you want me to. We could figure something out.”

Villanelle hums contentedly. “Yes. I would like that.”

Eve presses a kiss to her forehead, and then remembers.

“Oh, I got you a gift, hang on…” She sits forward, and pulls the wrapped guidebook of Liverpool out of her bag. Villanelle takes the slim package from her hands, and turns it over a couple of times. She glances at Eve, looking serious.

“Is it a bottle of wine?”

Eve laughs, and then says “Yes, how could you tell?”

Villanelle grins at her, and then places the gift on the floor, before climbing into Eve’s lap and wrapping her arms around her neck. Her smile stays in place as she presses her mouth to Eve’s, and kisses her.

God, it’s… Eve has missed her _so much._

“Guys, please don’t have sex until the football is finished and I’ve left, there are no damn doors in this whole apartment- oh my god, what kind of fucking pass was that?”

…..

Liverpool win their football match.

And afterwards…

It’s the right kind of almost.

…..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you liked it!
> 
> Special thanks to @glowingeve on twitter, who let me yell this plot at them over the space of twenty minutes a couple of months ago, and then told me to get on with writing it. Thanks dude <3
> 
> @yotoob on twitter, yotoob on tumblr, yotoob on ko-fi if you want to gift me a drink? But no pressure :)
> 
> SPONSORED BY YOU GUYS, YOU ARE ALL LOVELY X


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